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MISS LIVINGSTON’S 
COMPANION 



























4 



























The most enchanting little figure I have 
ever looked upon 




MISS LIVINGSTON’S 
COMPANION 

A LOVE STORY OF OLD NEW YORK 

BY 

MARY DILLON 

Author of “The Rose of Old St. Loui*,’' 

“In Old Bellaire,” etc., etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
E. A. FURMAN 



NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 
1917 



Copyright, 1911, by 

The Century Co. 


Published April , 1911 


3 0 cc 


7 7 

^»ir>7<vu* 


TO 

M. D. C. andL. R. C. 

WHOSE LOVE AND DEVOTION 
MAKE ALL MY DAYS A SONG 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

i Where the Gentle Avon Flows 3 

ii An Interesting Party Boards our Ship at 

Le Havre 20 

m A Glance that Haunts Me 31 

iv I Practise my French and Discover my Pains 

are Needless 40 

v The Little Lion 52 

vi Pestilence and Storm Greet my Arrival . 60 

vii I Meet a Wit 70 

vm The Shadow of a Coming Event 83 

ix An Amazing Meeting 97 

x I Make a Faithful Friend 104 

xi I Enter into the Shadow 120 

xn The Green Moreen Chamber 129 

xiii In the Octagon Kiosk 145 

xiv Mr. La Force Makes an Insinuation .... 158 

xv On the Great Tidal River 176 

xvi A Letter for the Early Mail 192 

xvii Hope Rides with Me to Montgomery Place . 200 

xvtii Despair Returns with Me to Clermont . . 207 

vii 


CONTENTS 


viii 

CHAPTER PAGE 

xix I Discover why Miss Desloge Begged Me to 

Stay in Clermont 220 

xx The Sweets or Adversity 232 

xxi Mr. Hamilton Makes Two Wagers .... 239 

xxn Mademoiselle Knows 260 

xxiii On the Trail 286 

xxiv We Capture the Chest and an Owl Screeches 299 

xxv There’s Many a Slip 311 

xxvi Behind a Closed Door 328 

xxvii The Letter R 342 

xxviii I Wear my Hat in the Pit 357 

xxix A Little Esquimau 368 

xxx Captain Skinner Reappears 383 

xxxi Mighty in Death 401 

xxxii The Adorable Miss Livingston 417 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


The most enchanting little figure I have ever looked 

upon Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

I said good-by to her with a bursting heart .... 28 

“You know my father, at least by proxy ” 80 

“Fine!” he shouted as we swept by him 116 

I was silent for a long time 216 

We saw him seated by the spring, a huge savage 
covering him with a rifle 312 

“Let the toast pass” 340 

“You will never forgive me” 430 
















» 



l 





t 












MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 

















































MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


i 

WHERE THE GENTLE AVON FLOWS 

I HAD been sad enough when I said good-by to my father on 
the dock at Greenwich. This voyage to America was none 
of my seeking, and I verily believed, as I watched the green 
shores slipping away on either side and my father’s erect figure, 
crowned by the fine head of iron-gray curls (all his own, for he 
scorned to wear a peruke) growing dim in the distance, I verily 
believed I was leaving my heart behind me in green and merry 
England; and the prospect of the two years before me was as 
dull and colorless as the leaden skies settling like a pall over the 
city and breaking into thin wreaths of mist around Sir Chris- 
topher’s distant dome. 

But my sadness was not entirely for leaving my father. I 
loved my father, and, though he could be stern enough on occa- 
sion, we had been good comrades with more interests in common 
than most fathers and sons of my acquaintance. I had not 
disgraced him at his old college in Oxford; of my prowess in 
cricket and at the oars he had been justly proud; I had passed 
my Smalls and my Mods with credit and had even thought of 
going in for a First at the Greats, much to his delight. But 
my father and I were at outs just now, on a very vital point, 
and there was no longer freedom and good-fellowship to be 
found in our intercourse — nothing but a miserable constraint 
that we both felt only time and distance could remove. For it 
was there in Oxford, walking down the High, that I had first 

3 


4 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


seen Peggy Wolverton; and to have seen her was to have the 
whole world change in the twinkling of an eye. What were 
fathers, or tutors, or reading, or going in for Schools, or even 
training on the Isis, or bowling in Christ Church Meadows, 
compared with the bliss of sitting in the Sheldonian and watch- 
ing Peggy play Lady Teazle, and catching a smile from her 
scarlet lips and a glance from her sparkling eyes meant for me 
alone. 

For two blissful weeks my tutor knew me not, and even my 
beautiful chambers in Merton, the most perfect example of the 
Elizabethan in Oxford, which had been my father’s before me, 
seldom saw me. I did spend an hour or two of the night in 
them in restless slumber and blissful dreams, and at least three 
times a day I paid them a flying visit to see that my hair was 
brushed and tied anew, that face and hands were immaculate; 
in short, that I was in such fresh and splendid array as befitted 
the presentation of myself before my goddess. For when I was 
not sitting in the play or hanging around the stage door, I was 
treading on air as I walked beside the divine Peggy from the 
theater to The Roebuck; or I was spending my quarter’s allow- 
ance and mortgaging my next one on late suppers, where I 
pledged Peggy’s health in old Morley’s choicest Madeira; or I 
was blissfully strolling with her down Addison’s Walk or 
through the Meadows ; or still more blissfully punting her lazily 
up the Cher; or most blissfully of all, sitting beside her in her 
untidy room at the Roebuck, holding her little hand and looking 
ardently into her bright eyes. 

I thought then that they looked love into mine in return ; I ’m 
not quite so sure of it now. It may be that it pleased Peggy to 
have a good-looking young baronet — I do not think my glass 
deceived me as to the good looks, nor that I was unduly vain to 
credit myself with a modicum of them — it may be that it 
pleased her to have this young dandy, this scion of one of the 
oldest and richest baronies of England, dangling at her heels; 
and no doubt she was more willing to accept the title in futuro 
of Lady Marchmont, which, in my lordly way, but trembling 
also with eagerness and youthful bliss, I assured her should be 


WHEEE THE GENTLE AVON FLOWS 


5 


hers as soon as I could get my father’s consent ; or, failing that, 
should be hers without it as soon as I came of age. 

I had always been proud of my title, a baronet in my own 
right through my mother. I could not remember the day when 
the servants had not called me “the little Sir Lionel.” Now 
there may be many little “ Lords ” in England, but there are 
not many young men that can be called “ Sir ” while their 
fathers are still living. “ And please God,” I often said to my- 
self, “ may it be a long day before I change ‘ Sir Lionel ’ to 
* Lord Marchmont,’ for no young man in England could have 
a better father than mine.” And so Peggy, no doubt, was clever 
enough to know that with or without my father’s consent she 
could be Lady Marchmont some day. 

Whether the fates were unkind or otherwise, Peggy’s en- 
gagement in Oxford lasted but two weeks, and though the com- 
pany went no farther than Stratford for their next stop it seemed 
to me that the whole wide world lay between me and Peggy, and 
I lived only for the end of the week when the old coach made 
one of its tri-weekly trips to Stratford Saturday afternoon, re- 
turning Monday morning. I lived only for these Sundays spent 
with Peggy, floating on the Avon as we had floated on the Cher, 
and pouring out my soul to her in the sonnets Mr. Shakespeare 
had written on that very spot. I think I spent most of my 
hours between Monday noon and Saturday noon in conning his 
verses to have them at my tongue’s end by Sunday, for I did 
not doubt in my heart that that mysterious love of his, to whom 
the sonnets were written, was Peggy’s very counterpart: her 
“ mourning eyes,” her “ black-arched brows,” her “ scarlet lips,” 
were Peggy’s own. 

I have always suspected my tutor of giving my father a hint 
of how matters were progressing with me, for into this beautiful 
spring idyl my father walked unannounced one day, greatly to 
my consternation. It was Saturday morning and I had ordered 
a cold and early luncheon in my rooms and was making an elab- 
orate toilet in Peggy’s honor, hurrying, lest by some mischance 
I should be late for the start from the Mitre. I knew that with 
the first stroke of Great Tom on the noon hour, Gleason’s long 


6 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


lash would curl and snap round the ears of his leaders and the 
four big bays would roll the heavy coach lightly over the stones 
of the High and I would miss my chance of spending Sunday 
with Peggy if I were not in my accustomed seat by Gleason on 
the box. 

I could never have believed that the sight of my father could 
give me so little pleasure. I tried to think, while I was shaking 
hands with him, in an embarrassed and half-hearted way, I fear, 
what excuse I could make for running off from him immedi- 
ately; for the thought of disappointing Peggy who, I had no 
doubt, was ardently and impatiently expecting my arrival in 
Stratford, did not occur to me for a moment. But I soon made 
up my mind that the only honest way was, as the American 
philosopher says, also the best policy: I must make a clean 
breast of it to my father, for he was much too shrewd a man to 
be deceived by any halting excuses, even if I had been willing 
to make the attempt. On the whole it would be rather a relief to 
have it over, for the confession was bound to come some time, 
and the sooner it was made the sooner I could hope to claim 
Peggy — my father's consent being a necessary preliminary. 
Therefore, while mentally anathematizing old Hardwick, to 
whom I was sure I was indebted for this visit, I plunged 
boldly in. 

“ I am very glad to see you, sir," I said, inwardly quavering 
but outwardly bold, “ though I could have wished I might have 
known of your coming in time to put off an important engage- 
ment in Stratford which compels my leaving on the noon 
coach." 

“ An engagement in Stratford ! " exclaimed my father, in real 
or pretended astonishment. “ Pray, what business takes you to 
Stratford, my boy ? " 

“ I have promised, sir, to spend Sunday there with Miss Wol- 
verton," I answered steadily enough, though feeling the red 
flood rushing to my temples. 

“Miss Wolverton! Not Peggy Wolverton, the actress?" 
And then answering his own question before I had time to re- 
ply: “No, of course not! The divine Peggy is nearer my age 


WHEKE THE GENTLE AVON FLOWS 


7 


than yours. You were just getting into your first small clothes 
when Peggy was setting the town ablaze with her beauty and 
her wit.” 

Now I had, at times, a faint suspicion that Peggy might be 
a year or two older than I (which I said to myself, stoutly, 
mattered not at all in love), but that there could be any such 
difference in age as my father intimated I knew to be impossible. 
Either my father was exaggerating the matter for his own pur- 
poses, or my Peggy must be the other Peggy’s daughter. But 
as I had not liked my father’s familiar way of speaking of her, 
and liked still less his uncomfortable suggestion, I answered 
stiffly : 

“ Doubtless, sir, ’t is another Miss Wolverton.” 

“ Oh, doubtless,” agreed my father. “ But what have we here, 
Lionel? Is this the remains of breakfast or the beginnings of 
luncheon ? ” 

Whereupon I pressed my father to partake of my cold mutton 
and sent my scout for another tankard of ale, and, being by now 
fully dressed, I joined him at the table and began to feel more 
at ease as I busied myself with the duties of hospitality. I was 
proceeding to explain to him that I should be back on the re- 
turn coach Monday morning, that I hoped he would occupy his 
old rooms while I was gone, and that no doubt among the dons 
he would find some old acquaintances to make the Sabbath 
hours pass pleasantly, when my father interrupted me : 

“ That ’s all very well, but I came to see you, sir, and since 
you seem to think it impossible to postpone your visit to Strat- 
ford, how would you like to have me go with you ? ” 

Now I would like it not at all, and for the moment I was 
inclined to give up my visit to Peggy and stay at home with my 
father, as I well knew it was my duty to do. My father saw 
my hesitation and added with a twinkle in his eye, as if he well 
understood the cause of it: 

“ I can visit Mr. Shakespeare’s tomb, I suppose, or hold dis- 
creet converse with mine host of the Eed Horse while you go 
boating on the Avon with Miss Wolverton. And we will have 
the journey over and the journey back in which to discuss some 


8 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


weighty matters, for the consideration of which I am come to 
Oxford.” 

The kindly twinkle reassured me and I hastened to declare 
myself delighted with the prospect of having him for a fellow 
traveler, but that I was ready, also, to give up my proposed 
jaunt if he preferred it. He would not hear to that and having 
by this time disposed of our mutton we hurried over to the Mitre 
to learn if there might be, by chance, a vacant place on the coach 
for my father. By great good luck there were two, given up 
not an hour before, the landlord of the Mitre said, and, though 
I did not suspect it at the time, I have wondered since if Hard- 
wick had not had them reserved by prearrangement with my 
father. Of course I gave up my box seat with Gleason and sat 
by my father, and for the first half of the way, while we were 
rolling at a pretty pace over the beautiful Oxfordshire and 
Warwickshire roads, the hawthorn hedges all abloom, the pop- 
pies beginning to show gleams of scarlet among the young corn, 
the birds singing in the leafy lanes and my heart beating fast, 
half with joy at the thought of seeing Peggy and half with fear 
at the remembrance that the weightier part of my confession 
was still unmade — that I had not yet told my father that I 
wished to marry Peggy — for the first half, as I said, my father 
made no mention of the matters he had come all the way from 
Devonshire to discuss with me. 

We followed the windings of the silvery Cher as far as Ban- 
bury, where we descended from the coach, while the horses were 
changing, and made a hasty supper at the old Red Lion, princi- 
pally on the cakes and ale for which Banbury is famous. The 
shadows were lengthening as we climbed into our places once 
more, and as we left the Cher at the cross roads where the old 
cross used to stand — so Gleason once told me and I now told 
my father — and as we plunged into the cool and shadowy 
glens of Edge Hill Mountains, my father cleared his throat in 
an ominous fashion and I knew my time was come. 

“ My son,” he began, “ war has been declared, and the Light- 
foot Greys are ordered to Portsmouth.” 

My heart was in my mouth in an instant. 


WHEKE THE GENTLE AVON PLOWS 


9 


“War declared!” I cried, and “Ordered to Portsmouth!” — 
all in the same breath. I hardly knew which was the greater 
news. “We had not heard, sir, in Oxford,” I added with a 
guilty feeling that I had been so absorbed in Peggy I had only 
half read my Times of late, and had like to clean forgot that 
war was pending. 

“I fancy that there are some in Oxford better posted than 
you,” my father answered soberly, “ or, perhaps, more deeply in- 
terested in the affairs of their country. But it is not, as yet, 
a matter of general information. The Times will have it on 
Monday, but I have had my early news from your uncle, the 
duke.” 

“ Then I am not to stay for the Greats, I suppose, sir, nor 
Commem. ? ” I asked, trembling with an excitement that would 
have been all pure joy if it had not been for Peggy. For the 
duke had promised me a captain’s commission in the Lightfoot 
Greys, which formed part of his own command, and to be or- 
dered to Portsmouth meant, of course, to be ordered on ship- 
board also, and off to the seat of war, wherever that might be. 
It would have been all pure joy, as I said, but — what was to 
become of Peggy? Therefore my father’s next words gave me 
a momentary relief. 

“No, the duke insists you must go up for the Passes and 
take your three taps. That is my desire also. We both wish 
to see you a full-fledged B.A.” 

“But, sir,” I stammered, being equally divided in my mind 
between relief and disappointment, “will not the Lightfoot 
Greys have sailed by that time ? ” 

My father cleared his throat once more. 

“ The duke also thinks, and here I agree with him again, that 
you are too young to hold a captain’s commission in war times. 
He says the late war lasted fifteen years and this is like to be as 
long — there will be plenty of time for you to win your spurs 
later and plenty of captain’s places to be filled from those left 
vacant by the fortunes of war.” 

My father seemed to expect me to interrupt him here, and he 
hurried on, either to give me no chance or because he knew that 


10 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


what he was about to say would be especially distasteful to me. 

“ We have both decided, in family council, that the thing you 
need is two years in a foreign land, where you may learn to rely 
on yourself, and where you may find opportunities for adventure 
that will prove the best preparation for a soldier’s life. The 
duke, therefore, has given me letters for you to his friend Mr. 
Livingston of New York and the Hudson. With such an in- 
troduction you will see the best of the New World society and 
I have particularly asked Mr. Livingston, also, to throw any 
chances for adventure in your way that may seem desirable.” 

“ Have asked him ! ” I exclaimed quickly. “ Then you have 
already written him ? ” For his use of the past tense had struck 
painfully on my ears. Were the arrangements all made, the 
articles signed and sealed without so much as consulting me? 
Was I not to be permitted to decline this offer of a trip to 
America, if I so desired? 

“ Yes c have/ ” said my father dryly. “ The letters to Mr. 
Livingston went on the last packet, a week ago.” 

I was silent so long that my father began to feel some com- 
punctions, I think. He could not know, of course, that it was 
of Peggy I was thinking; that I was trying to screw my cour- 
age up to complete my confession, and that I was resolving that 
if I could take Peggy with me to America I would go, but other- 
wise, not a step. 

“ Does the plan displease you ? ” my father asked more gently. 
“ We thought it best that you should sail as soon after Com- 
memoration as possible, since war is threatening and there is no 
knowing how soon the highway of the sea will be blocked to all 
traffic. We had no time, therefore, to consult you if our letters 
were to catch the first packet out, and it was necessary they 
should if we were to have an answer before time for you to 
start.” 

It was now my turn. I began firmly : 

“You have asked me, sir, whether the plan displeases me. 
It is, of course, a very great disappointment not to receive the 
captain’s commission I had so long counted upon, and, naturally, 
the disappointment is so much the greater since there is a pros- 


WHERE THE GENTLE AVON FLOWS 


11 


pect of seeing actual war. But that is a matter for my uncle to 
decide — the commission is his to give or to withhold. I do 
not think, sir, that it is a matter which belongs to him to decide 
whether or not I shall be exiled to America for two years. In- 
deed, sir, it is a matter on which I think I should have been 
first consulted, and I still hope that the arrangements have not 
gone so far that I may yet decline the honor intended me.” 

“ The arrangements are completed,” said my father sternly. 
“ You sail the last of July. Remember, sir, it is still two years 
till you are your own master.” 

I was appalled at my father’s harshness — I had never before 
encountered it. But it angered me also. We occupied the two 
seats in the rear entirely to ourselves and by using common 
caution we need not be overheard by our fellow-travelers in the 
discussion of matters so extremely private and personal as ours 
had been. But in my anger I threw caution to the winds. 

“ I have some rights, sir, if I am not of age ! ” I exclaimed 
bitterly. “ And, moreover, I am under a solemn engagement to 
marry a most charming and estimable young woman. I cannot 
go to America.” 

My raised voice caught the attention of two or three in front 
and they turned to look at me. I hardly think they understood 
my words, but their turning back brought me to my senses and 
I added in lower tones and with a more submissive air : 

“I hope, sir, you will not insist.” 

My father lowered his voice also. 

“ Engaged to be married, Lionel, my boy ? ” he asked in his 
old kindly tones. “ Tell me all about it. That may put a new 
face on the matter. Is it to Miss Dufour ? ” 

I was softened by my father’s words and his return to his old 
manner, but I liked not the mention of Miss Dufour. It had 
been a cherished plan of the family that Rosamond Dufour and 
I should marry when we came of suitable age. Our estates ad- 
joined and our parents had been friends in their youth; but 
Rosamond had been orphaned when she was so young that I 
had only hazy remembrances of my childhood’s playmate. She 
had been sent to a convent on the Loire and afterwards to 


12 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


stay with some of her grand French relations and be polished 
and finished in the society of the gay capital. It was ten years 
since I had seen her and my most distinct memory of her was 
of a freckled face making me a saucy moue, and then long arms 
and legs going like a windmill and red curls floating on the 
breeze as she flew from me, scaling the high wall that separated 
the gardens at Clover Combe Court from the park and sitting 
perched on the top for a moment like a saucy squirrel, kicking 
her little heels and grinning wickedly; and then, as I started to 
climb after her, dropping to the other side of the wall and away 
through the park like the wind. She was only seven and I was 
nine, and I hated to be beaten at running and climbing by a 
girl. But I hated more to lose my playmate and so I stood on 
the wall and called after her angrily : 

“ Rosamond Defour, you are a naughty girl! If you don’t 
come back, I ’ll never speak to you again ! ” 

But she did not stop, nor turn, and as I saw her fast dis- 
appearing among the Clover Combe beeches I called again, but 
this time entreatingly : 

“Bosie, Bosie, come back! and you can play with my long 
bow.” For it was because I would not let her have my most 
precious possession, the bow which my uncle the duke had given 
me, that she had called me “ mean ” and made a face at me and 
then run away from the anger she saw she had aroused. 

I had not seen her since, for she set out for Paris the next 
day, and I remember feeling as my father spoke, a fleeting won- 
der as to the kind of looking young lady she had grown to be, 
but proudly sure that her freckled face and red hair could never 
compare with the raven-black curls and flashing dark eyes and 
rosy cheeks of my Peggy. It took scarcely a moment for that 
wonder to flit through my mind, and I answered my father with 
no apparent hesitation: 

“No, sir, it is not Miss Dufour; it is Miss Wolverton.” 

“Miss Wolverton!” exclaimed my father angrily, and then, 
as if he had determined to be patient with me, he went on more 
gently : “ I hope you have not been over-hasty, Lionel. Mar- 

riage is a grave matter, requiring much deliberation, and surely 


WHEKE THE GENTLE AVON PLOWS 


13 


it is one on which it is fitting you should take council with your 
father before pledging yourself.” 

I knew that well, and his grave and kindly tone went farther 
towards making me feel shame that I had not done so than all 
his sternness could. 

The new moon, a slender crescent of silver, was hanging over 
the shoulder of Edge Hill, and just below, the great evening 
star was throbbing. The sun was not yet down, but the high 
hill shut off the rosy glow in the west and so left moon and star 
— the star of love, the star of Venus, our star, I called it — 
hanging suspended over the dark brow of the hill in almost 
undimmed brilliance. I often think of them as they looked that 
evening, sinking at last behind the high, hanging wood, and 
the air growing cooler and fresher and drenched with dew, be- 
fore my father had ceased to plead with his wayward boy. We 
had long left the sparkling Cher and were rolling swiftly along 
the banks of the gentle Avon and rapidly nearing Stratford by 
the time I had given my promise to him: I would see Peggy 
and tell her that we must wait two years, and that the two years 
were to be spent by me in exile in America — I called it exile — 
but if at the end of the two years we both remained constant, 
my father would withdraw all opposition and Peggy should be 
Lady Marchmont, and I would be the happiest man in the 
world. 

It was nine o’clock and the sun just setting as we clattered 
into the stone paved court of the Eed Horse; Gleason popping 
his long whip, the post boy playing fol de rols on his horn, and 
mine host, a jolly good fellow, rushing out at the door to wel- 
come his coming guests. The inn was full, my father would 
have to share the room reserved for me, which was another trial, 
for would he not know exactly how late I stayed out with Peggy ? 
My father made light of it as if he were the one being discom- 
moded. 

“ Pooh, pooh ! that ’s nothing ! I have often endured greater 
hardships than to sleep near my boy,” he said grandiloquently. 
“You have two beds in the room, I suppose, Landlord? And, 
if not, you can easily set up another. Just let us have some 


14 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


supper and I ’ll to bed, for I ’ve traveled farther than this young 
fellow, to-day, who I ’ll be bound is still good for a midnight 
stroll under the stars.” 

This last with a sly wink at me, and I blushed sheepishly and 
could not find it in my heart to propose that I should seek a 
bed in another inn, as I had thought of doing. 

Neither could I find it in my heart to say a word to Peggy of 
my promise to my father, when I met her at the door of Guild 
Hall, and we strolled down by the Avon under the stars, and 
then up on Sir Hugh’s great bridge, where we leaned on the par- 
apet looking down into the dark water glimmering faintly below 
in the starlight; and with my arm around Peggy’s waist, and 
sometimes her head upon my shoulder, I listened to her gay chat- 
ter reciting all the trials and triumphs of the week. 

But Peggy was hungry, as Peggy always was after the play, 
and we did not linger long on the bridge. We went back to 
her inn, the Old Green Tree, not near so fine as the Eed Horse, 
but better suited in price to Peggy’s purse, where I ordered the 
most sumptuous supper the inn could afford; and we lingered 
so long over it that the great constellation of Scorpio was far on 
its way to the west, its red heart, Antares, glowering at me just 
over the roof of the Eed Horse, when I presented myself to the 
sleepy waiter on guard at the door. 

I know not how my father managed it — indeed, at the time, 
I did not think of him as managing it at all, but I ’m sure now 
that he did — but I saw no more of Peggy alone. He insisted in 
the morning that I should attend church with him at Holy Trin- 
ity (to which I made the fewer objections since I knew Peggy 
was never visible till mid-day), and where we had a seat near 
enough to Mr. Shakespeare’s grave for me to amuse myself in 
deciphering the quaint inscription when I wearied of the ser- 
mon. 

To my consternation, when church was ended and we were 
lingering under the trees in the pleasant churchyard, watching 
the Avon slide smoothly by under its overhanging willows, my 
father proposed that we should call upon Miss Wolverton at her 
inn and invite her to dinner with us at the Eed Horse. To my 


WHEKE THE GENTLE AVON FLOWS 


15 


consternation, I said, for I had been planning how I was to 
excuse myself to my father and slip away to dine with Peggy, 
and was just on the point of putting my plan into execution 
when he spoke. Yet I was as much pleased as dismayed. 
Did not this prove a desire on my father's part to show honor 
to Peggy? Would he not treat thus a prospective daughter-in- 
law who pleased him? Could he do more for Miss Dufour 
herself, were she in Peggy’s place ? 

I wished now that I had told Peggy, the evening before, of 
my father’s presence in Stratford, that she might have been pre- 
pared for this visit. I know not what had tied my tongue each 
time I had started to tell her, and now I had to confess to my 
father that she did not know, and would be much taken by sur- 
prise. 

“ All the better ! ” said my father cheerfully. “ I shall like 
to see if she recognizes an old acquaintance. And if she doesn’t 
I will know I have grown as elderly and grizzled as my glass 
assures me I have. That is,” he added hastily, “ if she proves to 
be the Miss Wolverton I knew fifteen years ago, of which, I be- 
lieve you have some doubts.” 

I had no doubts at all. I was quite sure it could not be the 
same, but I said nothing, and twenty minutes later, in the parlor 
of the Old Green Tree, my heart was going like a bellows at the 
sound of Peggy’s little feet tripping down the slippery oak 
staircase. 

She did not see my father at first and came dancing in, shak- 
ing a pretty pink forefinger at me in mock reproach, and show- 
ing all her little white teeth as she smiled. 

“ You naughty man ! ” she began, but I, not being quite sure 
what she was going to say, hurried forward and interrupted 
her. 

“ I want you to meet my father, Peggy,” I said breathlessly, 
and at the word Peggy turned and looked at my father and went 
white, all in a moment; and it was like a knife in my heart to 
see it, for I saw that she knew him. But Peggy recovered her- 
self in a minute and swept my father a curtsy, and looked up at 
him under her long lashes in a way that I had thought was for 


16 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


me alone, and that pleased my father more than it pleased me. 
He put his hand on his heart and made her a low bow. 

“ Charmed to meet yon once more, Miss Wolverton,” he said 
with the air of a courtier. “ You are looking as young and as 
beautiful as you looked fifteen years ago, when, if it hadn’t 
been for this boy’s mother, you would surely have broken my 
heart.” 

I saw Peggy give me a quick, sidelong glance, and for a mo- 
ment there was an angry sparkle in her eye, and I trembled for 
what might be on the tip of her saucy tongue. But, whatever 
it was, she thought better of it. She tossed her head daintily 
and smiled bewitchingly. 

“ Oh, law ! Lord Marchmont ! ” she said, “ you ’ve not forgot 
how to flatter, I see. I was such a baby fifteen years ago I won- 
der I can remember you. But I do remember that you tried to 
turn my silly little head with your pretty speeches, and you 
ought to have known better than to talk so to a child who took 
every word you uttered for gospel truth.” 

My father chuckled, and I breathed easier. If she was only 
a child fifteen years ago she could not be more than thirty now 
— and what was a matter of ten or eleven years on the wrong 
side to two people who loved each other? I said to myself 
stoutly, for if ever there was a boy bewitched, Peggy’s saucy 
curls and laughing eyes and flashing smile had bewitched me. 

While I was comforting myself with the thought, my father 
was extending his invitation, and Peggy received it radiantly. 
A dinner at the Eed Horse was a much finer prospect than one 
at the Old Green Tree, and that my father should offer her such 
a courtesy pleased her even more, I could see, than the prospect 
of a dinner. She ran out of the room for her bonnet and 
pelisse and came back in five minutes, breathless from haste, 
her cheeks rosy and her eyes dancing and looking prettier than 
ever with her bonnet framing her sparkling face like a picture, 
and her little dimpled chin nestling into the big bow of lilac rib- 
bon that tied it on. I was proud as a peacock and I’ve no doubt 
showed it plainly to my father’s shrewd eyes. He offered Peggy 
his arm and, I on the other side of her, we three walked decor- 


WHEEE THE GENTLE AVON PLOWS 


17 


ously up Bridge Street, still quite full of people returning from 
church, and many of them turning to stare curiously at Peggy 
(who by this time was well known in Stratford, from her three 
weeks at Guild Hall) on the arm of a distinguished-looking 
stranger. 

All through dinner Peggy devoted herself to my father, being 
arch and merry, and saucy, and languishing with him by turns, 
and at last I began to feel the pangs of jealousy. Was not my 
father a widower? And though I had grown accustomed to 
thinking of him as rather an old fellow, far beyond the years 
when he could please a girl's fancy, was he not as vigorous and 
as erect as I, and a far handsomer man, I had always said, than 
I could ever hope to be? 

Nothing escaped Peggy. She saw the gloom settling down 
on me in spite of my struggles to hide it, and she took advantage 
of a moment when my father was speaking to the butler to 
whisper in my ear : 

“ You Goose ! Can’t you see it is all for you ? I must do 
my best to win your father if we would ever hope to be happy.” 
And with that she seized my hand under cover of the table and 
gave it a little squeeze. 

Of course I could see it. And it was noble of her, too, for no 
doubt she would much rather be talking with me than with an 
old man nearly fifty, even so charming a one as my father. My 
heart grew light, I could feel my face clear and I joined in the 
conversation with great sprightlinesg. I saw my father glance 
at me curiously once or twice. He had not seen Peggy whisper 
in my ear and of course he had not seen her squeeze my hand, 
and he could not quite account for the sudden alteration in 
my demeanor, which was plainly perceptible to him. 

It was after the dessert had been cleared away, Peggy sipping 
her champagne with us as we took our port, that my father ex- 
ploded a bomb he had been carefully preparing : 

Schools would begin the next morning. If I waited for the 
Monday morning coach, I would either be late for the first one 
or miss it altogether. Did not Miss Wolverton think it would 
be wise if he and I should get a post-chaise from the Eed Horse 
2 


18 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


and drive over this afternoon immediately after dinner? Miss- 
ing one of the Greats was a serious matter, as Miss Wolverton 
probably knew, and should anything occur to cause my failure 
in getting my B.A. he himself (usually the most indulgent of 
fathers) would be inclined to be very severe with me. 

I expected to see Peggy pout and tease, for this Sunday after- 
noon and evening with her meant much to me, and I could not 
believe meant less to her. To my astonishment she hesitated a 
moment and then she said very sweetly and seriously : 

“ You are quite right. Lord Marchmont, as you always are. 
Sir Lionel cannot afford to miss the Greats, still less can he af- 
ford to offend so good a father.” 

I saw my father color, whether from pleasure I could not be 
quite sure, but he bowed gravely and thanked her for agreeing 
with him, and, without waiting to discover whether I also agreed 
with him, summoned the butler once more and ordered a post- 
chaise to be ready in half an hour to start for Oxford. There 
were times when I would have dared to demur at such a sum- 
mary procedure, but there were times, also, when my father’s 
mood put me greatly in awe of him, and this was one of them. 

The order having been given, my father was all graciousness 
and smiles to Peggy, and invited her, with charming cordiality, 
to be present in Oxford the next Sunday, which would be Show 
Sunday. 

“I will be there myself and try to fill in any little gaps 
Lionel may leave open for me,” he said. “ I shall not leave 
Oxford until after Commemoration, when I can take my boy 
home with me to Clover Combe Court.” And then he added, 
with a suavity I had never seen in my father, whose usual frank 
and hearty manner sometimes amounted to bluffness : “ Lionel 

tells me that he could not summon up the requisite courage last 
night to tell you of his plans; perhaps he will tell them to you 
now in the few moments remaining to us while I attend to the 
bill. We will set you down at the Old Green Tree in our post- 
chaise.” 

He rose as he spoke, excused himself and went out to the 
bar, where he was sure to find the landlord, and left me alone 


WHERE THE GENTLE AVON FLOWS 


19 


with Peggy, who was white and red by turns at these ominous 
words of my father, and a steely look in her black eyes that I 
did not like. 

I do not know how I blurted it out : that it was my father’s 
plan, not mine; that it would be only two years; and that I 
should love her better every day and every hour of the two 
years; that I could wait a lifetime for her; but if she would but 
be true to me I would only have to wait two years, and then I 
could come back from exile and claim my father’s promise and 
make her my wife and take her to Clover Combe Court to live. 

She listened to my incoherent words impatiently, and finally 
she interrupted me, demanding in a voice like ice, that I be a 
little more explicit, and tell her where my exile was to be and 
how soon it was to begin. 

I had hardly finished my embarrassed and stammering ex- 
planations to her, when my father returned, and Peggy’s manner, 
which had been cold and hard to me, changed instantly. She 
was by turns gentle and pathetic and submissive and grieving 
with him; I was sure my father must be won to reconsider. 
But the post-chaise was at the door, the horses were stamping 
impatiently on the paved court, my father said if we were to 
get to Oxford before dark and before the road men were abroad, 
we would have to be off, and I helped Peggy into the chaise and 
it was hardly five minutes till we had left her at the door of the 
Old Green Tree, waving a white hand in farewell, and we were 
disturbing the Sabbath calm of Stratford, people looking out from 
behind drawn shutters at the unusual sound of a post-chaise 
rattling over the stones on Sunday, though the post boy had tied 
up his horn out of deference to the day, and no long-drawn 
windings of it were waking the sleepy echoes of the streets. 

In a few minutes we left the noisy stones behind us and 
rumbled up onto Sir Hugh’s great bridge, where I had stood 
the night before with my arm around Peggy, and across it into 
the soft dirt road winding between green fields and bearing us 
swiftly away from the gentle Avon to the gay waters of the 
Cher and old Oxford. 


II 


AN INTERESTING PARTY BOARDS OUR SHIP AT LE HAVRE 

O N the ride back to Oxford I had a more serious talk with 
my father than I ever remembered to have had, and I 
think I caught glimpses of his character and temper that I had 
never seen before. 

I was sullen at first; it pains me now, when I think how 
gentle and forbearing with my pettish humor my father showed 
himself, and how churlishly I responded to all his overtures. 
But there came a moment when he seemed to think forbearance 
ceased to be a virtue, and he gave me to understand in a few 
stern words that I was not yet old enough, nor had I proved 
myself of sufficient discretion to have the making or the mar- 
ring of my future in my own hands; that I would be the first 
to blame him, and rightly, too, in after years, should he allow 
me to make a fool of myself now. 

Not once did he utter Peggy’s name — that I could not have 
borne — but, of course, it was perfectly clear in what manner 
he considered me as making a fool of myself, and I was boiling 
with indignation. But at the last he touched my heart. 

“ My son,” returning once more to his gentleness of manner, 
“you are all I have in the world. You bear a noble name, 
handed down to you by a long line of untarnished ancestry. 
The women who have married into the family have been of 
equal or nobler rank, and have brought with them sterling 
virtues and womanly graces to enrich the blood. I ask only 
that you take two years to consider whether, in your present 
choice, you are honoring your ancestors and ennobling your 
descendants. If, at the end of the two years, you are of the 
same mind, if you have each proved loyal to the other, I have 
nothing more to say. You will be of age — you can choose 

20 


AN INTERESTING PARTY BOARDS OUR SHIP 21 


for yourself. Bring whom you will to Clover Combe Court 
and I will make her welcome; and I think you will agree with 
me that this is little enough for a gray-haired father to ask of 
his only son.” 

My mind was seething with conflicting emotions. Between 
my love for Peggy — which made her seem to me in all womanly 
graces and virtues the equal of any titled woman in the land 
— and my youthful and generous scorn of all aristocratic pre- 
tensions — for were not we, at Oxford, ardent disciples of Vol- 
taire and Rousseau ? — between these and the love and respect 
I owed my father, I was in such tumult of spirit I knew not 
how to make reply. But at the very last there had been a 
tremor in my father’s voice — my gay and debonair father, 
ion camarade and ion viveur, whom I had never suspected of 
such deep feeling — that touched my heart; and I made such 
response as I thought a great concession on my part, though 
still somewhat surly in the fashion of making it. 

“ You are no doubt right, sir,” I said. “ I understand per- 
fectly that in your eyes I am still a child and a foolish one. 
Por two years I will abide by your judgment, but I pray you 
build no false hopes on either Miss Wolverton’s failure in con- 
stancy or my own. This is no passing fancy on the part of 
either of us; but an abiding affection, founded on mutual es- 
teem.” 

These were great words, and I liked the sound of them; 
though I have sometimes smiled since in recalling them. My 
father seemed to like them, too, if I could judge from the 
gravity of his utterance, a little belied, however, by the fleeting 
twinkle in his eye. He offered me his hand and said gravely : 

“ ’T is a bond, my son. I thank you for it, and we will talk 
no more of it.” 

This last was such a relief to me that the latter part of 
our journey was as gay as the first part had been somber. My 
father might have been another boy like myself, and both of 
us off on some Sunday lark, for I think from both our hearts 
a load had been rolled: from mine, that my confession was 
made and I had been treated at least squarely; from my 


22 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


father s, that my promise was given, for he knew my word was 
my bond to be depended upon as his own. 

I went to bed not at all that night, and I kept Hardwick 
up with me, cramming me for the Pass on Monday. I realized, 
now that it was so late, how much of my time had been squan- 
dered on Peggy, and I began to feel a little remorse for it, 
and to be filled with a feverish eagerness to make the most of 
the few hours left to me. All hope of a First was gone, dead 
as my interest in it and desire for it had been the last few 
weeks. But my interest and desire had both revived, now that 
it was too late, and I began to see myself for the first time as 
something of the fool I was sure my father must regard me. 

I saw but little of my father during this week — cramming 
all night and Schools most of the day — but I made the Greats, 
though I did not deserve to, and could look forward with a 
clear conscience to Show Sunday and Peggy. 

She had written me (I never showed Peggy’s notes to any- 
one. Neither the penmanship nor the spelling w~ere to be 
proud of, but I consoled myself with the thought that many a 
fine lady could not do as well) she had written me that the 
entire troupe was coming over Saturday evening, and would 
give As You Like It in New College gardens Monday after- 
noon. In a way, this was a disappointment to me. I would 
have liked Peggy for once without her theatrical surroundings, 
but in a way, too, it was a pleasure. I was quite wild about 
Peggy’s playing, regarding her as the greatest of living ac- 
tresses, and I had never seen her as Rosalind. 

My aunt, my father’s sister, who, since the death of my 
mother, had done the honors of Clover Combe Court and been 
a mother to me, was coming, also, for Show Sunday and 
Commemoration Week, and would also arrive Saturday even- 
ing. My duty to her would interfere with my attendance on 
Peggy, I feared, and that thought detracted somewhat from 
the pleasure I ought to have felt in her coming. The young 
are selfish, my aunt has often told me, but, also she has said 
she has no doubt it is a provision of nature wisely intended 
for the perpetuation of the species, and the carrying on of the 


AN INTERESTING PARTY BOARDS OUR SHIP 23 


great emprises of the world, that the old should think only 
of the pleasures and the well-being of the young, and that the 
young should think only of themselves, and of their own most 
weighty affairs. 

“Love descends but does not ascend,” is one of my Aunt 
Pamela’s favorite sayings, and when I ask her what that 
means — “ Wait, sir,” she says, “ till you have children of 
your own, and by the time they are well on in their teens you 
will know.” 

I trembled a little at the thought of her shrewd, though 
kindly eyes, reading Peggy like an open book. It would mean 
much to me if she read her to her liking; for in spite of her 
“ Love descends,” I loved my aunt in my selfish way, and would 
be much happier if she loved Peggy; and while dreading the 
meeting, I was eager for it, too, and anxious that Peggy should 
make a good impression both in dress and behavior. She 
had many admirers in Oxford, and I knew that as we prome- 
naded the length of Broad Walk there would be many bold eyes 
ogling her, and sometimes Peggy was apt to show too plainly 
that she liked such attentions and to return them in kind, which 
I was very sure would shock Aunt Pamela’s somewhat rigorous 
notions of propriety, should Peggy be betrayed into an exhi- 
bition of vanity before her. 

I was of half a mind to give Peggy a word of caution in 
advance, though dreading to do so, from not being quite sure 
how she might take it, but I had no chance. Knowing that 
she would not be visible before mid-day, I presented myself at 
The Roebuck immediately after the service at St. Mary’s, which 
I had attended with my Aunt Pamela and my father, only to 
receive a little note from her to the effect that she was tired 
and should take her dinner in bed, and please call for her at 
three o’clock, when she would be ready for the Show. 

I would not go back to the Mitre and dine with my father 
and Aunt Pamela, since I had excused myself to them on the 
score of an engagement with Peggy, and as I did not feel 
equal to the chaffing from my fellow students, that I knew 
would meet me in the dinner hall, I retired to my rooms, or- 


24 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


dered up a cold lunch and spent the intervening hours in 
attempting a sonnet to Peggy in imitation of one of Mr. Shake- 
speare’s; and in rebrushing and retying my hair and rear- 
ranging my laces. I was just starting for the Eoebuck once 
more* when my father presented himself at my rooms, and 
learning where I was going, offered to accompany me ; and so I 
had no chance to give Peggy my warning. 

There was no fault, however, to be found with Peggy’s 
dress when she came down to present herself to us in the inn 
parlor. She had donned her bravest attire, for Show Sunday 
was intended for dress display, and if Peggy’s finery was a 
little more showy and gaudy than my aunt’s quiet tastes would 
approve, there would be others as gaudily dressed to bear her 
company, and it became her mightily. Neither was there any 
fault to be found in her behavior to my father, unless, to my 
jealous eyes, it seemed a little over-sweet, for I could see that 
my father was looking handsomer than usual, and his attire, 
too, was of the bravest. He, also, was ready for Show Sunday, 
and I had noted that more admiring glances from bright eyes 
fell to the father’s share than to the son’s, on our way to The 
Eoebuck. 

But I took shame to myself for such unworthy thoughts, 
unjust equally to my father and to Peggy, and strutted proudly 
by her side, as, Peggy, once more on my father’s arm, a goodly 
looking couple, we walked to the Mitre for my aunt. Now was 
the crucial moment, and I felt the blood surging to my temples 
and pounding in my ears as I presented Peggy. Peggy swept 
a low and deferential curtsy that pleased me greatly, and what 
did my stately Aunt Pamela do but lay her hand caressingly 
on Peggy’s shoulder and exclaim in the friendliest fashion : 

“Why, my child, how pretty you are! No wonder the boy 
has lost his head and his heart ! ” 

Peggy blushed with pleasure through all her powder and 
paint. ’T was no disgrace, then, to use both ; every great lady 
did, and as for an actress, it was but part of her profession 
and her duty to make herself as young and as beautiful as 
medicants for the complexion could manage. 


AN INTERESTING PARTY BOARDS OUR SHIP 25 


I saw but little of Peggy during the Show. My father ab- 
sorbed much of her time, and there were other aspirants for 
her favor that secured some of it among the gay company that 
thronged the Broad Walk; while Merton men were constantly 
carrying me off to meet their sisters — fine ladies, all of them, 
and many of them Honorables — and sometimes my father 
must present me to the daughter of an old friend or fellow 
collegian, and I must smirk and bow and do my manners with 
my eyes ever furtively watching Peggy, and my heart constantly 
following her. 

Once, just at the turn of the promenade, I came upon my 
father in earnest conversation with her. I thought my father 
looked stern and Peggy greatly disturbed. She was angry, 
and frightened, and subdued, and haughty, by turns; and I 
longed greatly to know why, though I would ask neither of 
them, for I said to myself, proudly — if they do not tell me of 
their own accord I will not force their confidence — and I 
knew I could trust them both. Yet, later, my father was all 
politeness to Peggy, and Peggy was all pretty daring and 
coquetry with him, which seemed either to amuse or to please 
him, or both. 

Though I saw little of Peggy on Show Sunday I saw much 
of her on Monday. I sat in New Gardens while the shadows 
were lengthening on the velvety turf, and the air was filled 
with the fragrance of roses and honeysuckle, and for three 
hours I feasted my eyes on her — the most bewitching Rosa- 
lind the world had ever seen, I verily believed. My ears were 
glutted with her praises on all sides, and most grateful among 
them were my Aunt Pamela’s, who sat beside me and mur- 
mured every little while, “No wonder! No wonder! ” Which 
I knew to mean, no wonder I was over head and ears in love. 

But the moment the performance was over, Peggy was mine 
for the rest of the evening. This was the first week in July; 
in two weeks my packet would sail; on Wednesday morning 
the Lord High Chancellor himself would tap me three times 
on the head with the time-honored copy of the Bible in use 
many years for that purpose, and make a B.A. of me; and 


26 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


my father had arranged that at the earliest possible moment 
after the conclusion of that ceremony, we three should start 
for Clover Combe Court, for there were many preparations to 
be made for my long journey. Peggy was to start back for Strat- 
ford early Tuesday morning (on Tuesdays and Thursdays the 
coaches left in the morning) and my last chance for seeing 
her for two interminable years would be Monday evening. 
Therefore I had demanded, and neither my aunt nor my father 
had the heart to object, that this last evening should be devoted 
to Peggy. 

I waited only for her to get out of Rosalind's clothes and 
into her own before carrying her off to Iffley for supper. We 
ate it in a picturesque little inn on a balcony overhanging the 
Isis and when supper was over we punted lazily up the Isis to 
the Cherwell and up the Cher, until we reached a shady nook 
by Addison's Walk. 

What we said to each other through that long evening would 
fill the Bodley Library, I think. I look back at it sadly: the 
ingenuous young fellow, his heart brimming over with his first 
love, pouring out the wealth of it on an arid waste that never 
could blossom in response. All the promises she made me 
rang true to my ears; all her protestations of undying love 
fell sweetly on my heart; yet there were moments when, in- 
fatuated though I was, blind and deaf to everything but Peggy 
and her charms, a faint uneasiness stole into my mind. Why 
did she sometimes, when I was breathing my most ardent vows, 
look troubled; why did she half start, at other times, to say 
something that she repented of before it was spoken ? Why did 
she offer a thousand reasons, all of them trivial, why she could 
not come to Greenwich to see me sail and bid me farewell, as 
I ardently desired her to do? I know why, now, but then I 
had only a moment's uneasiness, and soon was lost once more 
in a radiant sea that engulfed me in its warm waves, bearing 
us both on, I believed, to a golden future of bliss. 

The moon was well on its way to the full and threw lovely 
traces of shade and shine over Peggy as it fell through the 
limes and beeches of Addison's Walk. For at least three weeks 


AN INTERESTING PARTY BOARDS OUR SHIP 27 


I thought of her every night as she looked that evening under 
the shadow of Magdalen’s walls and always with bounding joy 
at the thought. But three weeks is but a mote in a man’s life, 
and it has never been any joy to me since to think of her as she 
looked then. 

The moon was hanging low in the west (and Peggy had 
yawned audibly many times) when at last we climbed the 
bank into Addison’s Walk and through the Magdalen Quads. 
It was Commemoration Week, so the gates were left open and, 
fearing neither bull-dog nor Proctor, we walked boldly down 
The High to Cornmarket Street and so to The Roebuck. 

At the door I said good-by to her with a bursting heart, and 
could hardly trust my voice to whisper — “ In two years, 
Peggy.” “ In two years,” she whispered back, waved a white 
hand and fled through the door. 

So it was no wonder I was sad when I said good-by to my 
father on the Greenwich dock and saw the green shores of 
merry England slipping away from me where lay my heart 
deep buried in Peggy’s breast — for so I believed. 

I have but little remembrance of the voyage as far as Le 
Havre. My thoughts were all of Peggy, and though I had a 
youth’s natural curiosity about voyaging into new lands, my 
heart was like a lump of lead in my breast and curiosity was 
drowned in grief. As we neared the French shores I began 
to arouse from my lethargy. War had been declared and no 
English vessel would have dared to cross the channel, but our 
ship bore the American flag, our captain was an undoubted 
Yankee skipper and our papers bore the stamp of the Govern- 
ment of the United States. If a Frenchie had wanted, she 
would not have dared attack us, since, with Mr. Jefferson as 
President, France and the United States were on the most cor- 
dial terms. 

We were to stop at Le Havre to take on passengers and mer- 
chandise and I was glad to get a glimpse of the enemy’s 
country from such safe vantage as the deck of an American 
ship. The harbor was crowded with craft of all kinds: men 


28 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


of war, yawls and pinnaces, evidently part of the great fleet Bona- 
parte was preparing to hurl against England. I looked at them 
scornfully, as became a true Briton, yet with the keenest in- 
terest, too, and a great longing. Why should I be exiled to 
America just now, when great deeds were stirring? But for 
Peggy, I believed that I might be even now on board a ship at 
Plymouth, getting ready to meet those same dapper little 
Frenchmen before me, wearing the tricolor in their caps and 
proudly strutting the decks of those ships, between which, by 
means of much tacking and veering, we were laboriously mak- 
ing our way. 

The harbor was crowded but we had a skillful pilot and soon 
made a mooring at the foot of a long pier where great bales 
and boxes of merchandise were piled ready to be stowed away 
in our hull. I looked to see what passengers would come aboard. 
There were not many of them, but two parties interested me 
greatly. One was a closely veiled young lady with her maid, 
or so I took her to be. She was not so closely veiled but that 
I could catch a glimpse of waving masses of red brown hair, and 
soft dark eyes that matched the hair in color. I caught a 
glimpse, too, of the white nape of a neck. Not Peggy’s own 
was half so white, and I had never seen a prouder poise of 
any woman’s head. A gentleman was with her, who I could 
see placed her particularly in the Captain’s care, but neither 
the gentleman nor the maid sailed with her. They said good- 
by to her on the deck and then they stood on the pier watching 
her till the boat sailed — the maid weeping bitterly, and the 
gentleman calling up to her with words of cheer and encourage- 
ment — for such I took them to be from the tones, though 
they were in French and therefore but meaningless to me. 

I was deeply interested in the little party, for there seemed 
to me to be a mystery connected with it and I could not re- 
frain from conjectures as to what the mystery might be. But 
I was not so deeply interested that I did not take particular 
note, also, of a still stranger party. The head of it was a young 
man but a little older than myself, I judged, but in every way 
a most striking figure. He must have stood a good six feet four 


1 



I said good-by to her with a bursting heart 



AN INTERESTING PARTY BOARDS OUR SHIP 29 


in his stockings, and his shoulders were broad in proportion; 
while he was as slender and lithely built in the flanks as any 
race horse. His hair curled on his shoulders in thick golden 
ringlets tied back with a black ribbon, and clustered in short 
curls around a brow as white and cheeks as pink as any maiden’s. 
But for the level glance of his eye and the firm molding of his 
chin, I might have thought him too effeminate in looks; but, 
as it was, he struck me as the perfect type of manly beauty — 
one of the old gods of Greece come down to earth. 

Striking as was the young man, the rest of his party were 
no less so. They consisted of a negro man and a negro woman 
— the man in the livery of a servant, the woman wearing a 
bright colored turban on her woolly locks and a broad white 
handkerchief crossed over her sable breast. I had seen but one 
negro in my life, and never had seen a negress. I looked at 
them curiously and thought that but for the good nature that 
seemed to radiate from every pore of their shining black skins, 
and evidenced by constant grins displaying dazzling rows of 
white teeth, I should have felt fear of such ship companions; 
and I wondered that so fine a young gentleman should choose to 
travel with so strange a retinue. Then I bethought me that 
they might be from America, since that was the land of the 
blacks. They were doubtless slaves, and I looked at him more 
curiously still and wondered if all Americans were as big and 
as handsome as this one, and if so, I could not be so greatly 
surprised that they had wrested their liberty even from the 
hands of the mightiest nation on the globe. 

The passengers were all aboard, the merchandise was stowed 
away, and still we waited. I looked down to see why and dis- 
covered that they were having trouble in making a great black 
stallion walk the planks laid down for him from the pier to 
the ship. He was a magnificent creature with one white foot 
and a star on his forehead. Two men on either side of him 
were trying to urge him on, but I think they were afraid of 
him. There was fire in the brute’s eye and danger in his quiver- 
ing nostril and back-pointed ears and flying hoofs. 

When they had tried many times in vain to urge him on 


30 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


board I saw the American giant (for so I had mentally dubbed 
him) go down to the beast, lay one hand on his quivering flank 
and take hold of his bridle with the other. He gave a word of 
command in French to the men and they fell back quickly, 
glad to be free from the dangerous brute. Then he spoke to 
the horse quietly : 

“ Come, Bourbon,” he said in English. “ Como on, my good 
fellow,” and the stallion dropped his head and followed his 
master meekly aboard, more like a tame kitten than the death- 
dealing brute of a moment before. 

And I, who love horses and admire extravagantly fine horse- 
manship, decided the big American was a man after my own 
heart and greatly to be desired as a friend. 


Ill 


A GLANCE THAT HAUNTS ME 


ND a friend he came to be before the five weeks of our 



stay on shipboard were over, though it was several days 
before I so much as thought of him, since for those days I was 
deep buried under a sea of sorrow : the waves of despair, moun- 
tain-high, rolling up and breaking over me, pouring all their 
floods upon me and crushing me under their weight of woe. 

We were not out of sight of land, the blue line of France’s 
chalk cliffs still faintly visible in the offing, and I looking at 
them steadily with a strange thrill as I realized that now, in- 
deed, was I off on unknown seas, and this was my last glimpse 
of land for weeks — I was hanging over the taffrail with my 
eyes fixed on those distant shores, when the Captain came up 
to me and handed me two letters. 

“ They were not to be delivered to you, sir, until we were well 
out from Lee Havver; those was my instructions,” he said. 

I seized them eagerly; one was from Peggy, one from my 
father. How good of them! How thoughtful of them! I 
exclaimed to myself gratefully, to have letters delivered to me, 
a last fond message, when I was far out at sea ! and was pro- 
ceeding to tear open Peggy’s letter when I noticed on a corner 
of the envelope, in my father’s handwriting — “ To be opened 


first.” 


I smiled at the needlessness of the direction, and thought it 
must be one of my father’s jests — he dearly loved a jest — 
but I wondered a little how Peggy’s letter could have come into 
his possession even long enough for him to add the instructions. 
Then I thought that possibly my father had himself proposed 
the plan to Peggy to give me so pleasant a surprise, and had 


31 


32 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


had her forward her letter to him that he might deliver it with 
his own to the captain. I glowed with gratitude to my father 
at the thought, and then I lost no more time but opened Peggy’s 
letter. 

At the very opening words my heart stood still. My eyes 
were blurred and so dazed was I that for the moment I could 
read no further. Then I gathered myself together and read 
on desperately. It was but a brief letter but every word was 
a dagger: 

“ Sir Linel : This leter is writ at your fother’s reqest. It 
is to enform you that when you reseeve this i will be marede to 
sir Charles Townsby who has courted me for menny years. I 
pray your fergivness, sir linel. I did like you but yure fother 
wuld never let us mary . In wun thing i have deseeved you. I 
am much older than you think, much much tu old to be yr 
Wife. 

“ Yrs truly 

“ Peggy Wolverton (Townsby). 

“ P. S. I tried to tell you that last night on the char, but I 
koulden find the hart. “ Peggy.” 

How long I stood leaning on the taffrail, my eyes glued to 
those baleful words, I know not. When at last I came to 
myself a little, I crushed the letter in my hand and rushed to 
my cabin, head down, looking neither to the right nor to the 
left lest someone read the misery in my eyes. I threw myself 
on my bunk and lay there a long time with little sensation of 
any kind but a dull ache. I could not believe it, I would not 
believe it. Then as I went over, in my mind, every word of 
Peggy’s letter, conviction was forced upon me. 

I had met that Sir Charles Townsby, met him dangling at 
Peggy’s heels when I first saw her in Oxford. I remembered 
him only as a disreputable-looking fellow, decidedly seedy, and 
favoring me with some very ugly scowls as I showed my open 
infatuation for Peggy. A sudden thought struck me. It 
brought me some comfort, though I am ashamed to confess it. 


A GLANCE THAT HAUNTS ME 


33 


My father had forced Peggy to marry Sir Charles to prevent 
her marrying me. 

For a few minutes I was as bitterly angry with my father as 
if I knew this to be the truth and not merely a conjecture on 
my part. Peggy had certainly loved me — it was impossible 
to feign so well. And to make my anguish more poignant I 
recalled every sweet token of her love in the six weeks I had 
known her, and groaned aloud. Sir Charles Townsby ! I 
loathed the thought. It was my father's doing, I raged; no 
living woman, least of all my dainty Peggy, could prefer such 
a man. 

It was hours before I had the heart to open my father's 
letter and when I did read it every word made me wince. It 
was a very tender letter, but its very tenderness was gall and 
wormwood to my open wounds. It was partly as I thought. 
My father had not forced Peggy to marry Sir Charles, but he 
had used some means to compel her to break off with me. This 
he confessed to me and rehearsed in brief the conversation to 
the disturbing effect of which on Peggy I had been witness on 
Show Sunday. 

My father wrote: 

“ ‘ Either, Miss Wolverton,' I said to her, ‘ you will put an 
end to this affair with my son, or I will report to him what I 
know of that old affair with Harry Thornleigh and Sir Charles 
Townsby.' 

“ ‘ What do you know of it ? ' asked Peggy, looking up at me 
with the glance under her long lashes that she considers fetch- 
ing, and that, indeed, has proved itself so with many a man. 

“ ‘ I know all / I answered impressively. Then Peggy pouted 
and began to beg. 

“ ‘ You could not be so mean, Lord Marchmont.' 

“ 6 1 could,' I answered firmly. 

“ c Then you have changed greatly from the Lord Marchmont 
I knew fifteen years ago,' in her archest manner. 

“ ‘ I have changed in one respect, Miss Wolverton,' I said. 
‘ The wiles used upon the son do not seem to me half so alluring 
as when they were used upon the father.' 

3 


34 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ She smiled and looked pleased. 

“‘And no doubt/ I added, ‘they are not quite as effective 
as they were then. Fifteen years is a long time in a woman’s 
life, and are bound to leave their devastating traces on a woman’s 
charms.’ 

“ This made her furious, as, indeed, I knew it would and 
intended it should. 

“ ‘ You cannot expect, sir, that I will be anxious to grant 
your request to me in return for a deliberate insult from you,’ 
she said haughtily. 

“‘No, Peggy,’ I said — everybody called her Peggy fifteen 
years ago, and perhaps they do still — ‘ I do not expect you to be 
anxious to grant my request, but I expect you to grant it.’ And 
then I proceeded to give her some very cogent reasons why she 
should do so. I convinced her, finally, and we came to terms. 
I made it a part of the contract that she should inform you 
by letter that she did not love you and did not wish to marry 
you, and that the letter should be sent to me to be delivered to 
you when I saw fit. I arranged with Captain Skinner that 
neither of these letters should be delivered to you until you 
were well away from Le Havre, fearing that your ardent temper 
would impel you to return and try to reverse Miss Wolverton’s 
decision if there were any possibility of a return.” 

And then my father added : 

“ My son, you may think I have taken an unwarrantable lib- 
erty in interfering with your love affair, but Miss Wolverton 
did not think so. She knew that I knew that of her that would 
warrant any father in the course I am taking. She is in every 
way unworthy of you ; try to forget her. I do not know the con- 
tents of her letter to you, but if she has kept to her bargain and 
told you that she will not marry you, then I will never reveal 
that which I know of her. If she has not kept to her bargain, 
I will some day tell you what will, I am sure, finally destroy 
all love for her. But if she has kept to her promise, then say 
to yourself — would any true woman lightly give up the man 
she loved at the bidding of another? That in itself ought to 
be proof to you of her unworthiness.” 


A GLANCE THAT HAUNTS ME 


35 


Then followed a few words of sympathy, simply expressed, 
but coming from my father, who had never used such words 
to me, they meant much. He said also that he rejoiced greatly 
that I was to have these two years in a foreign land, filled, as 
they doubtless would be, with strange adventures. There could 
be no better panacea he was sure, for such a hurt as I had re- 
ceived. 

I could not tell, when I had finished reading his letter, 
whether I was more angered by it or soothed. I was in no 
state of mind to be willing to believe the horrible things of 
Peggy my father intimated. I scorned to believe them! Had 
there been anything in our intercourse ever to suggest that she 
could be so base? Then it flashed into my mind that our 
“ intercourse ” had been but an intermittent one of six weeks’ 
duration, not a long time in which to exhaust the capabilities 
of a human soul — “ especially a woman’s,” I added to myself 
bitterly. 

It was my first real feeling of anger toward Peggy ; heretofore 
it had been all for my father. But my anger soon turned on 
my father again. With a sudden flash of suspicion I believed 
the “ cogent reasons ” that he had used with Peggy were money. 
He had bought her off! For five minutes I was in a towering 
rage with my father till the tide turned again and the sober 
truth came home to me that a woman who could be bought 
was not the woman for me — was the basest of all women. 

Three miserable days I spent in such unhappy swinging of 
the pendulum from anger with my father to doubt and distrust 
of Peggy, and more than once I seriously contemplated the 
advisability of throwing myself overboard and so putting an end 
to an existence which, with the hopelessness of youth, I was 
sure would never be anything but a burden to myself and a 
weariness to my friends. The possibility that happiness could 
ever return to me I did not for a moment consider. 

To all messages of inquiry from the captain I sent back 
word that I was suffering with mal de mer, which, as a strong 
nor’easter was blowing, and the sea running high, and more than 
half the passengers abed, need not seem incredible to the cap- 


36 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


tain; especially if any of the messengers he sent reported to 
him the haggard looks and wild eyes and speech of the man 
they always found tossing restlessly on his bunk. 

But toward the end of the third day, the storm apparently 
increasing in violence, the weird sound of the wind whistling 
through the shrouds coming down to me in my cabin, and I 
tossing in my bunk, not now with anguish of soul but with the 
violence of the motion of the boat, I began to long for the 
society of my fellows. And at that moment through the key- 
hole, or by some other entrance, came the fragrance of broiling 
ham. Now to a man who has been fed for three days on broths 
and other sick food, and but little of that from a supposed 
illness which makes all food distasteful, I know no fragrance 
more delightful. I could hear, too, the clatter of dishes in 
the ship’s saloon — they were preparing the evening meal. I 
made a hasty resolve to seclude myself no longer. I rose from 
my bunk, made a hurried but careful toilet and walked out 
into the saloon. 

They were already seated at table, such of the ship’s pas- 
sengers, that is to say, as were in a plight to be, which was 
not many — scarcely a dozen in all. Now I had felt not the 
slightest qualm of that illness I had claimed to be suffering 
from, doubtless because, although this was my first sea voyage, 
Clover Combe Court lay on the Devonshire coast and from 
earliest boyhood I had been free of the fishermen’s boats at 
Clover Combe and had grown to be as much at home on water 
as on land. 

The captain was seated at the head of the table and at one 
side of him sat the big American. I had forgotten his exist- 
ence in the last three days, and at sight of him I was struck 
once more by the size and beauty of the man. There was a 
vacant seat beside him, as there were many other vacant seats, 
and the captain, catching sight of me, hailed me. 

“What ho, Sir Lionel! You have found your sea legs in 
the height of the storm! Not such a bad sailor after all. 
Here is your seat, sir, been staring at us for three days like a 
hungry dog waiting for its bone. Sit down, sir, sit down,” 


A GLANCE THAT HAUNTS ME 


37 


and he waved me to the seat beside the yellow-haired Ameri- 
can. 

His voice was none of the softest on any occasion, but owing 
to the noise of the storm he had bellowed at me as if he were 
shouting orders through a fog horn. As I took my seat he 
introduced me to my neighbor, but either from the way he 
shouted it, or from the clatter and banging of everything in 
the cabin, or, more like, from still another cause, I did not 
catch it. 

The other cause w^as that, just as I turned to take my seat, 
I intercepted a startled glance from two soft brown eyes opposite. 
Seated on the other side of the captain was the mysterious 
French lady of whose auburn locks and beautiful eyes I had 
caught a glimpse through her veil at Le Havre. Why she 
should be so startled by my appearance I could not guess. I 
hoped that my haggard looks, of which I had suddenly become 
uncomfortably conscious, had not alarmed her. Still more I 
could not understand why, as I let my eyes meet hers for a 
moment, that deep blush should overspread the creamy white- 
ness of her face, rising to her very temples, while her eyes 
fell on her plate in visible embarrassment. 

The captain presented me to her also, and this time I caught 
the name — Mademoiselle Desloge of Paris. I bowed, and 
Mademoiselle barely lifted her eyes as far as the tip of my lace 
tie in response to my salutation, while another wave of crimson 
inundated her face. 

It was most remarkable, and I believe my seat-mate thought 
so too, for I have no doubt it was for the sake of covering 
her embarrassment that he began in French — in which lan- 
guage the three had been conversing when I entered — some 
lively remarks about the storm. I had to confess that I did 
not understand French, and I know not why it should have 
occasioned me any mortification to do so, but it did. 

“I had a French governess when I was a lad,” I said in 
excuse for myself, “but I always despised the language and 
thought it an unmanly affectation to be able to speak it fluently. 
So I learned as little of it as possible and promptly forgot 


38 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


what little I learned, and at Oxford, yon know, they do not 
teach it. Of course I regret it now.” 

My neighbor laughed at my excuse, but he seemed much 
interested at my mention of Oxford and said he had desired 
greatly to visit England, and one of the things he had most 
desired to do there had been to visit that ancient seat of learn- 
ing. 

As politely as I knew how I hinted a question as to why he 
had not done so, but his face clouded in a moment. 

“ I am hurrying home. Sir Lionel, on a hasty summons from 
my mother. My father is ill,” he said briefly, and I hastened to 
apologize for my question and to express my sympathy. He 
received both apologies and expressions of sympathy with a 

bow, and to change the theme to a less unhappy one, I spoke 

of being a witness to his conquest of his horse, and I rather 
glowed over the beauty of the animal and his mastery of it. 

“ He must have grown up with you from eolthood,” I said, 
“ to be so submissive to your slightest word and touch, for he 
seemed a dangerous fellow when those four men were trying to 
get him aboard.” 

“No,” he said, “he is not dangerous as a rule; but he was 
beside himself with fright. He has been in my possession but 
a week, but he is of so fine a temper and spirit that in that 

week he has come to know me and love me and obey me like 

an old friend.” 

From that we fell to talking of horses, and it being a sub- 
ject in which we both delighted we were soon feeling on familiar 
terms of acquaintance. The captain joined in occasionally with 
questions or remarks which showed he knew nothing of horses, 
but displaying always a quaint good sense that I believe to be 
common to seamen, and particularly to Yankee seamen, as I 
have come to know them. 

But the captain hurried away a few minutes after my arrival. 
His place was on deck, he said, in nor’east storms, and I was 
left with only the American to talk to, for of course I could 
address no word to my beautiful vis-a-vis, having no French 
at my command. The American, however, feeling, no doubt, 


A GLANCE THAT HAUNTS ME 


39 


that she must not be left entirely to herself, addressed her sev- 
eral times in what struck me as very fluent French. Her replies 
were brief and still with an air of embarrassment, but for the 
first time in my life I recognized what I had often heard spoken 
of as the rhythmical beauty of the French tongue. 

Very shortly Mademoiselle, too, excused herself, rising hur- 
riedly from the table, and I, having a three days’ appetite to 
satisfy, and not liking to show my eagerness for food in the pres- 
ence of those beautiful eyes (once I had caught her furtively 
looking at me), was not altogether sorry to see her go. 

But as she was turning away from her chair some sudden 
impulse seemed to move her: she turned quickly back and for 
the fraction of a second gazed straight into my eyes with a 
look that was friendly, merry, daring and quizzing all in one. 

I must have shown my astonishment in my eyes at this un- 
expected freak of hers, for the wave of embarrassment swept 
over her face again, she stooped hurriedly on pretense of pick- 
ing up a handkerchief she had dropped — I believed it was only 
a pretense — and fled swiftly to her own cabin. 

Where had I seen a look like that in a woman’s eyes before? 
It haunted me for full five minutes; then I gave it up and 
concluded that all women were alike — doubtless Peggy’s dark 
eyes had often looked just such a saucy challenge into mine. 


IV 


I PRACTISE MY FRENCH AND DISCOVER MY PAINS ARE NEEDLESS 

T HAT evening my new acquaintance, the big American, and 
I sat out on deck in the lee of the cabin for a full hour, 
enjoying the majesty of the storm and finding many matters 
of mutual interest on which to converse, when the thunder of 
the waves pounding on the deck, and often breaking over us in 
spray, and the roar of the wind whistling through the shrouds 
and driving our boat before it with only the flying jib and one 
top sail set, would permit. I learned much of my companion’s 
history and told him much of mine, but they were only such 
parts of our lives as were open to the inspection of all men — 
neither of us, until long after, touched upon the great story of 
our lives, the story of our loves. 

I was surprised, and a little disgusted the next morning, to 
find myself in a comparatively cheerful frame of mind. What 
right had I to feel even a passing moment of cheerfulness when 
my heart was crushed under the heaviest weight of woe that 
had ever fallen on a poor mortal ! Moreover, to my yet greater 
disgust, I found myself, at unguarded moments, looking forward 
with something like interest to meeting at breakfast my two 
table companions of the night before. I had never expected, 
and did not desire, to feel any interest in any human being 
again. It was bad enough to be feeling pleasure at the thought 
of meeting the American, but I could not conceal from myself 
that I was also looking forward with something like interest to 
meeting the Frenchwoman. 

“ K is curiosity,” I said to myself ; “ an emotion much to be 
despised, but responsible for my wondering whether the creature 
will favor me with another of her peculiar glances. Doubtless 
she is one of those bold French coquettes, of whose wiles I have 

40 


I PRACTISE MY FRENCH 


41 


heard much, who takes me to be an easy victim of her blandish- 
ments.” And I gloated to myself a little over her dismay 
when she should discover herself so greatly mistaken, and that it 
was a heart of stone, henceforth and forever impervious to all 
women's wiles, that she was vainly practising her arts upon. 

It was somewhat to my disappointment, therefore, that Miss 
Desloge did not appear at breakfast — I was rather anxious for 
an opportunity to show her I was not the easy dupe she had 
taken me for. When she did not appear at dinner, nor at 
supper, nor at any meal for the three days following, my un- 
easiness grew to an extent that could not be concealed from 
myself, and I feared might, at times, be perceptible to others. 
When I ventured, in the most casual way, to inquire for her 
of the captain, it seemed to me that he returned only an evasive 
answer. I heard him mumble something like <c seasickness, I 
suppose,” but it was only mumbled since it was uttered through 
a mouth half filled with ham and potato. 

Moreover, it could not be seasickness, since the very evening 
of my inquiry I caught a glimpse of her (I could not be mis- 
taken in the elegance of her figure and the proud poise of her 
head) leaning on the taffrail and gazing off toward the shores 
we had left behind us. The violence of the storm had abated; 
for the first time since sailing we had a clear sky and a sunset of 
surpassing beauty. In the rose-hued sea the setting sun had 
left behind it, swam the silver crescent of the new moon 
and just above it glowed the pale gold star of Venus. It was 
inevitable that I should recall the last time that I had seen the 
star and crescent, hanging over the brow of Edge Hill on my 
way to Stratford and Peggy. And in as melancholy a mood as 
Miss Desloge seemed to be, I leaned on the traffrail and gazed 
back toward the shores, long since vanished in the east, where 
Peggy dwelt. For the moment all her perfidy was forgotten, 
only the memory of her immortal charms remained to me, her 
dear, enticing ways, her tender smile, her joyous laugh, the pres- 
sure of her little hand. 

When I came to myself and remembered that there was no 
longer any dear and dainty little Peggy Wolverton, only a 


42 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


coarse-minded Lady Townsby, who had sold her charms to a 
monster in exchange for a title, I shuddered and lifted my head. 
The silver crescent had already sunk into the western sea and 
Peggy’s star and mine was fast sliding down into the watery 
abyss. “ Well, let the waves overwhelm it ! ” I said to myself 
bitterly ; “ let it sink never to rise again ! ” and then, by some 
suggestion I did not recognize, I looked around for the French- 
woman, whom for the time I had forgotten. 

She had vanished. The decks were deserted. A bleak wind 
had sprung up with the setting of the sun and the brightly 
lighted cabin looked inviting. I went in and found my Amer- 
ican, and the noisy mirth of the passengers — now fully recov- 
ered from their illness — being pleasing to neither of us, we 
took our pipes to his cabin, which was more commodious and 
with more luxurious furnishings than mine, and there, as com- 
fortable as one could hope to be at sea, we grew more and more 
friendly over our pipes, our talk hovering around the verge of 
the topic absorbing us both, but skimming lightly away from it 
as it found itself too near the precipice. 

I had only college tales to tell him and, for adventures, the 
following of the hounds at Clover Combe Court, but he had 
real adventures to tell, of life on the frontier in America and 
later as an aide to Bonaparte in France, that sent my blood 
coursing faster in my veins. He looked like one born for great 
deeds and high adventure, I said to myself, and he had not 
belied his looks. 

It was a week later that I told my story to the American as 
we paced the deck together. The moon, well on in its first quar- 
ter, illuminated the ship with its soft radiance, not too brilliant 
to extinguish the stars which had begun to change their places 
in the heavens as our course lay farther south. I was struck 
in particular with the fact that Scorpio was riding so high. I 
did not remember ever before seeing the twin stars in the tip of 
its tail. But looking at Scorpio must needs remind me of 
Peggy and our last night in Stratford when Antares glowered 
at me over the roof of the Eed Horse as I came home so late. 

And before I knew it my story was out. I waxed eloquent in 


I PEACTISE MY FKENCH 


43 


the telling of it, and I have no doubt I made Peggy out the 
most divine creature the world had ever seen. Certainly I 
spared no sable tints in painting my own woes; though I dwelt 
not on them long, every line was laid in deepest dye. There 
was no future for me. This exile that I had entered upon, look- 
ing forward to its happy termination in two years, I was now 
sure would be a perpetual one. I did not believe I would ever 
care to return to a land where I had so loved and suffered, 
where every tree and brook and bird and flower would be but 
a reminder of Peggy, and where at any moment I would be in 
danger of coming face to face with her. 

The American could not have been more than two or three 
years older than I, yet in many ways, I can see now, he was 
vastly my senior in experience and judgment. He listened to me 
courteously and, indeed, with a genuine sympathy that could 
not be mistaken. He knew how to say the right word in the 
right way, neither too much nor too little, and he made me the 
most generous return possible for my confidence: he gave me 
his own. 

Also, the telling of his story was the best medicine he could 
have administered to my wound, in every detail it was so dif- 
ferent from mine. He had loved above his rank, or so he said, 
a Princess of Conde, whom he met in St. Louis in Spanish 
America, and whom he had afterwards met in Paris. He had 
never had any hopes, but no one could know her as he had known 
her, without loving her, even to his own undoing. She had fled 
from Paris and from the persecutions of Bonaparte just before 
he himself had left France. She had gone, accompanied by 
the Prince de Polignac, to seek refuge with her cousin the 
young Due d ? Enghiem in Baden, and he would have no means 
of knowing whether she had arrived in safety for weeks. The 
prince had promised to write him and he hoped to hear within 
a week or two after his arrival in America, but in the meantime 
he was suffering great anxiety and he could hardly be more sor- 
rowfully anxious over the condition in which he should find his 
father on his return home, than he was as to the tidings that he 
might receive from the prince. Bonaparte was a tireless* foe 


44 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


and he would not easily let so rich a prize as the Countess of 
Baloit escape him. 

This was a wonderful array of great names he let slip so 
easily through his lips, and I was well enough versed in the his- 
tory of my times to know how great. I even remembered hear- 
ing of the return of the Countess de Baloit to Paris and the 
plans Bonaparte had made for her marriage. My own story 
seemed small and mean by comparison. I began to fear I had not 
loved worthily, and to realize that it was better to look too high 
than too low, and I really believe it did more to set Peggy in her 
true light with me than anything else could have done, for I 
could not help comparing her with the Countess de Baloit as 
the American had painted her — a woman as noble in character 
as in rank — and I did not wonder at the settled melancholy in 
my friend’s face and manner, since I did not doubt his love was 
as hopeless as it seemed. 

It was on the same evening that another incident occurred 
that I believe also helped to dim the brilliant colors in which 
Peggy’s image had hitherto shone. For several days now, 
Mademoiselle Desloge had been quite regular at her meals. If 
she had been suffering with mal de mer she had fully recovered, 
for though she vouchsafed me only a bow of the coldest, with 
no hint of a smile accompanying it, and no signs of coquetry in 
her red brown eyes, I could see for myself that she ate with 
good appetite and that her cheeks bore the hue of health: that 
faint tinge of rose that is the attribute of a creamy skin like 
hers. 

Although she greeted me coldly, she was graciousness itself 
to the captain and the American, conversing freely with them in 
French, which began to have a maddening effect on me, since 
it shut me off to my own cogitations, which were not always 
the cheerfulest, or abandoned me to the mercies of two cockney 
Englishmen, one beside me and one opposite, both bound on a 
business trip to the United States. I resolved to recall what 
I could of my forgotten French that I might be able to join, by 
a word or a phrase, at least, in the conversation going on at the 
head of the table. 


I PKACTISE MY FRENCH 


45 


To that end, while apparently absorbed in the contents of my 
plate, I began to listen intently, and even painfully, to their 
discourse, and much to my delight I discovered that I could un- 
derstand enough of it to follow the gist of what they were say- 
ing. I even began to formulate in my mind slow and labored 
replies, of the tritest, to some of their speeches. It was coming 
back to me, and for the next three days I spent an hour in my 
cabin writing out imaginary conversations in execrable French. 
I even pressed the American into my service. I told him how 
much I began to regret the neglect of my French and begged 
him to converse with me at intervals, slowly and simply as he 
would with a child, and perhaps I could recover some of it. 
And being the soul of good nature he complied, and I was be- 
ginning to gain a certain amount of fluency and confidence. 

It was on the evening when the American and I had opened 
our souls to one another that I ventured to try on Mademoiselle 
the French I had been practising so diligently for three days. 
It was a balmy evening, we had a free wind and a flowing sea, 
and our ship, graceful and swift as the sea gull for which it 
was named, went bounding over the waves like a thing of life, 
dipping into the trough and rising to the next crest, with a mo- 
tion as free and graceful as my hunter Sport’s when he takes 
fences and ditches in flight after the hounds. 

The American and I had been pacing the deck as we talked, 
and several times we had passed the captain and Mademoiselle 
Desloge, Mademoiselle seated on a low capstan and the captain 
standing beside her. He was explaining the rigging, sails and 
ropes to her, as was easy to discover without any great effort on 
the part of a passerby. But as we came up to them for the 
third time the captain called to my companion that he was ready 
to explain the problem in navigation he had been discussing 
with the American the day before, if he would step to his cabin 
with him for a few minutes. He responded to the captain’s 
invitation with alacrity and both of them excusing themselves 
to Mademoiselle Desloge, they went away, leaving her on my 
hands. 

Now was my chance. I had long since concluded I had been 


46 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


mistaken about the coquetry I thought I had discovered on my 
first meeting with Mademoiselle, but all the more was I puzzled 
as I remembered that look, and it made me the more eager, I 
think, to have some acquaintance with her and discover what her 
glance had meant ; for I was quite sure now that it had a mean- 
ing; that it had been given with intention and was no idle hu- 
mor. I had not responded to it properly and so there had never 
been another. 

In my labored and halting French, therefore, where the accent, 
I fancy, was even worse than the grammar, I began : 

“ II fait beau temps, ce soir, Mademoiselle, mais ausgi, il 
fait chaud. Woudriez vous avoir le bonte faire un prom- 
enade du naviro avec moi ? Je pense quil fera plus de f raicheur 
en marchont, n'est ce pas ? " 

Why I should have made my opening sentence so long, I 
know not. Perhaps I thought I would have no chance to make 
another and I would use my whole vocabulary at once, for 
Mademoiselle had heretofore treated me only to most distant 
bows. 

She was as courteous, no doubt, as the French are proverbially 
supposed to be, but she could not quite suppress a little twinkle 
of amusement in her soft dark eyes at my labored French. She 
did not interrupt me, but waited till I had quite finished and 
then replied in English as perfect as my French was poor, with 
perhaps the slightest accent, but only enough to add a charm of 
its own to the thrush-like quality of her voice. 

“ Thank you, Sir Lionel," she said ; “ you are very good. Yes, 
I think walking would be pleasanter than sitting still this warm 
evening." 

She rose as she spoke, but I was so petrified with my discov- 
ery that she spoke English so fluently, and so mortified over my 
needless attempt at French, that instead of offering her my arm 
I stood stock still and looked at her. 

“ Why did you not tell me long ago that you spoke English ? " 
I blurted out. 

She was not offended at my bluffness ; she only smiled. 

* I do not think Sir Lionel has ever given me a chance to 


I PRACTISE MY FRENCH 


47 


tell him anything,” she said in that adorable voice of hers, 
where now I could detect the merry gurgling of a brook over a 
pebbly bed mingled with the song of thrushes. “ Your French 
speech was the first you have ever addressed to me.” 

That was true, although I had held so many imaginary conver- 
sations with her that I did not for the moment think it was. 
I offered her my arm for the promenade and she started to ac- 
cept it naturally. But with her hand half extended she dropped 
it quickly, as if some sudden thought had struck her. 

“ Oh, I do not think I need your arm,” she said with a bright 
blush ; “ I hn a fine sailor ; see how steadily I walk.” 

And so she did, keeping her balance perfectly when the ship 
slid down into the trough with the deck at an angle of forty- 
five degrees (for though there was no storm on a heavy sea was 
rolling) and mounting the deck just as steadily when the good 
ship was climbing up again. 

I have often thought of that first talk with her — I thought 
of it many times in the light of the strange events that followed 
— for I had never met in England any young woman who talked 
so well as this young Frenchwoman. Of course the one topic 
on all our tongues was the war with France, but she understood 
60 well all the casus belli . I could never have expected a woman, 
and a young one, to have been so well informed. More than 
that, she was no lover of the great Bonaparte, and I suspected 
there was good reason for that. We had decided, the American 
and I, that she was of the old regime, probably an emigree of 
noble blood, seeking a more congenial clime in America. 

But we did not always talk of the war. I had ever a fond- 
ness for quoting my Shakespeare — which I can see now was 
often a bore to Peggy, who would rather have been talking of 
her triumphs on the stage and off, or of the things she liked 
most to eat and to wear. Indeed, as I have grown older, I can 
see that one might easily make himself tiresome by having too 
ready a tongue for a quotation — that it is a bad habit, to be 
curbed, not cultivated — but then I was in love with my Shake- 
speare as I was in love with love, because I was a sentimental 
young idiot who had still his wisdom teeth to cut. 


48 MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 

Being tempted, therefore, by the beauty of the night I began : 

“Look, how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.” 

To my delight she took the word out of my mouth and finished 
it for me : 

“ There 5 s not the smallest orb which thou beholdest 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim.” 

And then we got into a great game of capping verses, she 
beginning a quotation and I finishing it, or I beginning and she 
finishing. She was better at it than I, which was sufficiently 
surprising to me then, since I had not known many young Eng- 
lishwomen who loved their Shakespeare, and she, being French, 
could easily have been excused from loving him or comprehend- 
ing his beauty — but, as I said before, in the light of what fol- 
lowed it was infinitely more surprising. 

In the midst of our keenest delight in this intellectual game 
(my delight, at least, was keen, I cannot answer for Miss Des- 
loge’s) she suddenly seemed to recollect something. Her man- 
ner, which had been natural, unembarrassed and altogether 
charming, turned to the most frigid formality. 

“ You must excuse me, Sir Lionel ; it is growing late, I fear,” 
she said formally. “ I must go to my cabin, but I will not tres- 
pass on your courtesy further — I can find my way alone. 
Good-night, sir.” 

And without giving me a chance to urge that it was still 
early, or to insist upon accompanying her to the companion- 
way — both of which I was eager to do — she was off. 

Only once again on the voyage did I have anything like an 
uninterrupted conversation with her, and that was about a week 
before we landed. In the interval it had seemed to me that she 
had studiously avoided me. Sometimes she was at the table, 
sometimes she was not, but when she was there most of her con- 
versation was addressed to the captain and the American, and 
usually it was in French ; which, though of course it was the 


I PRACTISE" MY FRENCH 


49 


more natural tongue for her to speak, yet now that I knew she 
spoke such pure and fluent English I could not but consider as 
intended as a direct slight to me. I ought to have resented it, 
I suppose, and paid her as little attention as she paid me, but 
there was something in her manner of treating me that piqued 
my interest against my will. Sometimes I thought it possible 
that it was one of her French wiles, intended to pique it, but 
when, as occasionally happened, she turned and addressed me 
in English, her manner was so serious, so frank and direct, and 
at the same time so indifferent, as to preclude all thoughts of co- 
quetry on her part. I had to confess to myself that it was much 
more probable that she was interested in the big American — 
who was a man to attract any woman, even at the first glance — 
and thought of me not at all. 

Away from the table I seldom saw her, and then only in the 
presence of others, but on this evening, about a week before our 
landing — to be exact, just six days before — I saw her as I came 
out from supper, sitting far out in the bow of the vessel, watch- 
ing the sunset toward which we were rushing with every sail 
full set. And she was alone. 

I had such a vivid recollection of the one delightful hour I 
had spent with her, and I had so keen a realization of the fact 
that our voyage was nearly over, that I took my courage in my 
hand and walked straight out into the bow beside her. She 
was so intent on the -sunset, and the swish of the waves, flung 
back from our swift prow, was so strong, that at first she neither 
saw nor heard me, and I stood beside her a full minute looking 
at her, unperceived. I had seen her face merry, and formal, 
and cold, and eager, but I had never before seen it sad, and 
her eyes were of the kind which sadness but made the more beau- 
tiful. No doubt while she was looking at that piled glory of 
crimson and gold in the west, she was thinking of home and 
friends. For a moment I felt that I ought to turn and leave her 
to her sad thoughts undisturbed. Then I said to myself — She 
has had many hours alone, devoted to sorrowful reveries, no 
doubt ; this one hour I think she might spare to a fellow traveler 
who is also sad. So I made known my presence to her. 

4 


50 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


“ Mademoiselle/’ I said flippantly, “ art sitting in * maiden 
meditation, fancy free ’ ? ” 

She was startled at the sound of my voice and looked up 
quickly with a half-frightened glance. Without giving her a 
chance to speak I went on : 

“Will you share your sunset with a fellow voyager who is 
almost a stranger ? — or, so you have made him feel.” 

What induced me to address her with such impertinence I 
cannot tell, but she did not resent it. She smiled more sweetly 
than I had heretofore seen her smile on me and with something 
of that merry little twinkle in her eye that had made me think, 
on the night I met her, that she was trying to coquette with me, 
and that once more reminded me so strongly of someone I had 
known — Peggy, no doubt. 

She was sitting on a wide coil of rope and she moved a little 
to one side as she answered me : 

“I will not only share my sunset, but my seat, Sir Lionel; 
will you sit down ? 99 

I had been impertinent once and it had answered well — I 
would try it again. 

“ Miss Desloge,” I said, as I thanked her and took the seat 
she offered me beside her, “ it seems to me that you have pur- 
posely avoided me, and I know not why. Did I offend you in 
our last conversation together ? 99 

She hesitated before replying, and as I watched her, not being 
quite sure how she would take so bold a speech from so great a 
stranger, I saw the faint color come and go in her cheek and I 
thought she was struggling with some half-formed purpose. 
She turned to me, finally, with the air of one who has come to 
a decision, and as she spoke the rose still palpitated in her 
cheek. 

“No, Sir Lionel,” she said, with serious sweetness, “you did 
not offend me. I enjoyed our hour together; and if it had been 
proper and you had so desired, I could have enjoyed many more 
like it, on this tedious voyage. I cannot tell you, or I do not 
wish to tell you, why it is not proper, but in a few days you will 
inevitably know, and then you will thank me that I have sacri- 


I PRACTISE MY FRENCH 


51 


ficed my enjoyment of the passing hour to what I know to be 
right and fitting.” 

“ Mademoiselle,” I said quickly, sure now that she was some 
great lady whom I had no right to address on such familiar 
terms, “you know best what is right and fitting, but I should 
have thought on such a voyage as this — all of us fellow trav- 
elers together, and many of us, most like, leaving home for some 
sad cause that should make us feel akin — on such a voyage I 
should think that a princess might show friendliness even to a 
peasant.” 

She looked up at me, wonder at the hurt pride in my voice 
speaking from her soft eyes. But in a moment the wonder gave 
place to merriment. 

“ Oh,” she said, with a gay little laugh, “ you did not under- 
stand me at all. I am no princess ; but never mind what I am 
— you will know soon enough — and I think for this evening it 
will not much matter if I forget it and let myself enjoy the 
society of my learned Shakespearean friend. Let us — 

‘Hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; 

A stage, where every man must play a part; 

And if, perchance, ours be sad ones, what care we for an 
hour ! We will be 

‘ As merry as the day is long. 5 ” 

She was delightful as she said it: red lips curling with 
saucy glee, dark eyes glowing and sparkling with merriment. 
I forgot even Peggy, in the hour that followed; I forgot that I 
had ever been sad. 

I looked forward with eagerness to meeting her the next 
morning at breakfast, but she did not appear, and I did not see 
her again until, in the early dawn under rose leaf skies, and 
through a liquid air of sparkling amethyst, we sailed together 
over an opal sea up an enchanted bay to the tree-embowered vil- 
lage of New York. 


V 


THE LITTLE LION 

W HAT do you think of it, Sir Lionel ? ” 

“ It is wonderfully beautiful,” I answered. “ Why 
did no one ever tell me that I would find this new world so fair 
a land ? It puts to shame our old Thames and the approach to 
London.” 

“ I have never seen the Thames nor London,” my companion 
answered, “ but I can quite believe that this beautiful bay can 
put them both to shame. Certainly there is nothing in La 
Belle France to compare with it.” 

He spoke with a half-suppressed exultation that was easy to 
understand. The sun had not yet risen, but its rosy foreglow 
was in the sky and the clear light of dawn brought out the 
richly wooded heights on the west; and on the east, glimpses of 
white pillared houses on sloping lawns, and gardens and orchards 
heavily laden with the crimson globes of peaches or with fair 
round apples fast turning to scarlet and gold; and on either 
hand beautiful islands, between which, with every sail set and 
the foam rushing back from our prow, we were skimming like 
a great white-winged bird. 

To be coming home to such a land after an absence of many 
months filled with strange adventures might easily give one an 
exultant thrill, I thought, and felt myself the sadder for the 
thought. For it was not my native shores I was approaching, 
and, beautiful as they were, to me they were to be the land of 
exile for the next two years. I had given my word to my 
father, and there was no more hope that he would voluntarily 
release me from my pledge than that I would ask it. 

I glanced up into the face of my companion (he was a good 
half head taller than I) and I saw his dark blue eyes glowing 

52 


THE LITTLE LION 


53 


with pride and love. But in a moment a shadow swept over 
them and he half turned away with a deep sigh. 

I knew what the sigh meant. In our five weeks together we 
had gradually grown into a friendship that I believed would be 
as lasting as the hills, and would stand the shock of time as 
that rock we were just passing, and which they said was called 
Bedloe’s Island, had resisted the onslaught of the waves for 
centuries. Five weeks may not be a long time in which to weld 
a friendship for life, but spent on shipboard, where there is 
nothing to do but to exchange, first, opinions, and later, confi- 
dences, it may easily be long enough; and if, by force of cir- 
cumstance, two people are peculiarly ripe for such a friendship, 
then, indeed, might a much shorter time suffice. 

But in the very act of sighing I saw his face change and that 
interested look come into his eyes that I had seen there before 
when they fell upon a certain person. I was very sure she must 
have come into his line of vision with the look, and I turned 
quickly to see, not with any intention of spying upon my 
companion. I knew he had no more reason for being specially 
interested in Miss Desloge than I, and he had just as much 
reason, perhaps more, than I, for being interested in no woman 
on this side of the globe. I turned quickly because I had caught 
no glimpse of her for nearly a week and we had both wondered, 
laughingly, at times, whether she might not have fallen over- 
board, so completely had she disappeared from table and deck. 

Yes, there she stood: a graceful figure in a long gray silk 
traveling pelisse and wearing the same gray veil that had ob- 
scured those glorious eyes and that wonderful hair the first time 
I had seen her; for I had come, in my thoughts only, to use 
the adjective “ glorious ” concerning her eyes and hair, quite 
shamelessly of late, though at the beginning of our voyage I 
would have thought it treason to Peggy to do so. 

She was standing by the taffrail gazing eagerly at each island 
and landmark as the captain, standing beside her (for a pilot 
was taking us up the bay and the captain was off duty) , pointed 
them out to her. Most eagerly of all she was gazing at the 
rapidly approaching town lying just before us, its buildings 


54 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


coming out with startling distinctness in this wonderfully clear 
atmosphere, so unlike anything I had ever known on our mist- 
shrouded island. 

I would have liked to go up and speak to her, but that I did 
not dare, for now that our ways were so soon to part, probably 
never to meet again, I had a curious sensation of regret and a 
mild chafing at fate, or at Miss Desloge, that I had succeeded in 
growing no better acquainted with her on this long voyage. I 
was therefore pleased to hear my companion say: 

“Let us join them and listen to the captain’s descriptions; 
he can tell you everything and show you everything much better 
than I. Philadelphia is my city, you know, not New York.” 

I was pleased, but I answered him jestingly: 

“It seems to me for a young man with a broken heart you 
are showing great interest in the fair Frenchwoman.” 

He smiled, for he recognized that I was but repeating to him 
his own words, used to me a few days before, and with one ac- 
cord we turned and walked toward Miss Desloge and the captain. 
She received us with less of embarrassment in her manner than 
she had yet shown. 

“You are just in time,” she said; “Captain Skinner knows 
every house and every spire and every tree on the island, I should 
think. See that pretty park and the fine houses facing it on 
the north? That is the Battery and Captain Skinner can tell 
you who lives in every house. Did you expect to see anything 
quite so fine in the wilderness, Sir Lionel ? ” 

It was the first time she had ever voluntarily singled me out 
for direct address in the presence of others, and I felt myself col- 
oring and stammering like an awkward schoolboy as I replied: 

“ Everything is much finer than I expected to see it, Ma- 
demoiselle. This approach to the town is magnificent. Is 
everything in the new world on so grand a scale, Captain Skin- 
ner ? ” 

“ Oh, well, I guess things are big enough over here, or if 
they ’re not, we think they are and talk as if they were,” he an- 
swered. “But there’s something ought to interest you, Sir 
Lionel. See that liberty pole ? ” 


THE LITTLE LION 


55 


I was not quite sure what a liberty pole was, but he was point- 
ing to a tall flagstaff in the park and I nodded. 

u Well,” said the captain, “in *83, on November 25th, when 
the Britishers marched out of New York and took ship for Eng- 
land, they greased that pole and left their flag flying at the top. 
It was a slick trick and they were sure the Americans would have 
to cut down the pole (and they knew it would go against the 
grain to do that, for they had set it up when they tore down 
King George’s statoo and threw the tea into the harbor), but 
the Britishers thought they’d either have to cut down the pole 
or leave the British colors flyin’.” 

The captain stopped to note the impression he had made, and 
Mademoiselle asked the question he wanted. 

“ Which did they do ? ” 

“Neither, by gum!” said the captain grimly. “David Van 
Arsdale climbed the pole, grease and all, with our flag in his 
teeth, tore down the British flag and set ours flyin’.” 

“ It was a fine feat,” I said, and it was, for the pole was so 
tall and round and smooth, or so it looked through the cap- 
tain’s glass, that it would have been a difficult feat without any 
grease. 

“ Yes,” said the captain with a brave assumption of careless- 
ness. “ The British were slick, and the pole was slick, but 
Davie was slicker still. That was twenty years ago, come next 
November, but every 25th of November since, either Davie or 
one of his sons has climbed that pole at sunrise and set the flag 
floatin’ from it.” 

“ How I would like to see him do it ! ” Mademoiselle ex- 
claimed with enthusiasm. 

“ Mademoiselle Desloge,” I challenged her, “ if we are both 
in New York on the 25th of November, will you come down to 
the park with me at sunrise and see it done ? ” 

“ I do not expect to be in New York, Sir Lionel,” she an- 
swered coldly, and at once became as impenetrable to me as 
she had been most of the time through the voyage, though to 
my companion and to the captain she was still sufficiently gra- 
cious. 


56 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


I felt more chagrin at her sudden change of manner than 
I thought I ought to feel. What was Miss Desloge to me! 
Why should I care how she treated me? I believed it was the 
mystery that enshrouded her that had aroused my interest, but 
had I not cares and sorrows enough of my own to absorb me 
to the exclusion of any curiosity about or interest in the pos- 
sible troubles of another? I was turning on my heel, deter- 
mined to leave Miss Desloge and her vicinity, when the captain 
spoke to me again. 

“ There ’s another interesting spot to you Britisliers, Sir 
Lionel. Take my glass and examine the iron railin’ around 
that little green up there beyond the park. Do you see any- 
thing peculiar about it ? ” 

“ It ’s a pretty little green and a fine railing,” I answered 
after gazing through the glass a moment, “but I see nothing 
peculiar, except that the top of every post is ragged — looks 
as if it were broken.” 

“ That ’s it ! ” exclaimed the .captain, giving his leg a re- 
sounding whack, as was his custom when at all excited. “ I 
helped break them tops off myself when I was a lad of twenty. 
King George’s statoo was in the middle of the green, and we 
broke up the statoo and sent the pieces to Connecticut to be 
melted into bullets; for by good luck the old king was made 
of lead, and many a one of his sojers did his own statoo send 
to Davy Jones’s locker. Then we broke off the tops of the posts 
’cause they were gilt crowns, and we wanted no crowns or kings 
in Ameriky. But, by gum ! ” he added with sudden remorse, 
“ I never meant to be crowin’ over a fallen foe. You must 
excuse me, Sir Linel, I forgot fer a minute.” 

I laughed, and so did Mademoiselle, and so did the big Ameri- 
can, for the good captain’s manner was such a mixture of comi- 
cal repentance and sly bravado as was irresistible. He joined 
in the laugh himself, after a moment, with so joyous a guffaw 
as made us all but laugh the harder. But we were slipping 
past the Battery and I had supposed we would land there. 
When I said so to the captain: 


THE LITTLE LION- 


57 


“ Oh, no,” he answered, “ we land at the foot of Wall Street, 
round the heel of the island. See that tall spire ? That ’s Trin- 
ity Church and it stands at the head of Wall Street, where it 
runs into Broadway. It’s a very nice church, not quite as 
big as St. Paul’s, nor so fine as Westminster, but a very nice 
church if you ’re a Peskypisky and like all the folderol they use 
there on Sundays. I ’m a Congregationalist, myself, when I ’m 
to hum.” 

We were running so close to shore now that he could point 
out without the aid of his glass the fine houses of which there 
were a goodly number around the parks and on Wall Street and 
the streets running into Wall, and tell us who lived in them. 
They were substantial dwellings, and would have compared 
well with any of our fine London houses, except a few of the 
great houses of our upper peers. As we came quite round the 
“heel,” and began to draw up toward our landing, the captain 
pointed out a large square brick building three stories high, 
with stone trimmings, and a sloping roof in which were set dor- 
mer windows. 

“ That ’s Fraunces’ Tavern,” the captain said, “ where General 
Washington told his officers good-by ten days after the British 
sailed. There were a lot of them around the table in the big 
room in the second story and folks said there wa’n’t a dry eye 
among them when he told ’em good-by. And do you see that 
spot in the roof where the shingles are a different color ? ” the 
loquacious captain went on. “ Well, that’s where the first British 
cannon-ball struck New York from the big ship Asia . Did you 
ever hear Mr. Fraunces’ potry ’bout that very hole in the roof, 
sir? ” turning to the big American. 

No, he had never heard it, and the captain rolled it glibly from 
the tip of his tongue, glad of a chance to show himself a man of 
letters : 

“ ‘ Scarce a broadside was ended till ’nother began again, 

By Jove! it was nothing but Fire away, Flanagan! 

Some thought him saluting his Sallys and Nancys, 

Till he drove a round shot through the roof of Sam Fraunces/ 


58 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ But, by gum, we *re almost at the landin’ and here have I been 
standin’ palaverin’ with the quality when I should a bin at- 
tendin’ to my dooty.” 

With that he was off and left us three together and I at least 
would have been embarrassed at having Mademoiselle Desloge 
left on our hands, as it were, but that we were drawing near 
the wharf and were all greatly excited at the prospect of so 
soon making a landing after five weeks of the sea, and greatly 
absorbed, also, in observing the people who were thronging the 
pier watching the great ship come in. There were some fine 
ladies among the throng, dressed more after the Parisian style 
than our clumsier English fashion, and carrying themselves 
as proudly as titled dames. Some of them were beautiful, too, 
though I know not why that should have surprised me, for I 
had often heard that the American women were beautiful. I 
was wondering idly if any of them could be Livingstons, for 
it was to the Livingstons I was accredited, when I observed a 
strange thing: every face before me was more or less sad, and 
many of the throng were dressed in mourning. Down the 
faces of some, tears were streaming and there was scarcely a 
smile to be seen except when a fleeting one greeted the first 
sight of a friend on the ship’s deck. I could hear all around 
me, from those who had now pressed close about us, struggling 
to catch a glimpse of friends on shore, murmurs over the strange- 
ness of the scene, and a sort of awed silence fell upon us on ship- 
board, as we grew more and more assured that tidings of some 
great calamity awaited our landing. 

In the midst of our surmises I noticed a little man come 
quickly through the throng. He was very small, quite under 
middle size, but he was evidently a man of distinction, for the 
throng gave way before him and men saluted and women curt- 
sied deeply, and I could see, even at this distance, that the 
sadness in many eyes had given away for the moment to looks 
of love and admiration, and I looked at him curiously. 

Though he was so small I have never seen dignity more fully 
expressed in carriage and movement. His head was finely 
shaped and massive, without seeming at all out of proportion to 


THE LITTLE LIOH 


59 


his figure, which was of extreme elegance, well and lithely built. 
His nose was long and rather sharp, his mouth close-set, and 
his jaw strong and firm. But it was his eyes that were re- 
markable. Dark and deeply set, they were more full of light 
than any eyes I had ever seen. They absolutely seemed to radi- 
ate beams of light as they were turned up towards our captain, 
and I could easily fancy that at times they might flash fire. 

But I had only a moment to take in all these points, for 
as he fully emerged from the throng, he stepped to the edge of 
the wharf and called across the rapidly narrowing strip of water 
to our captain; and at his words I was for a moment struck to 
stone with astonishment. 

“ Captain Skinner,” he called, in a voice whose rare musical 
quality I noted with wonder, since most American voices were 
not musical to my ears, “ Captain Skinner, Mr. Livingston is 
ill and has asked me to call for Miss Livingston’s maid, a 
Mademoiselle Desloge. Will you be so good as to find her for 
me? ” 

When the first moment of stunned astonishment at his words 
had passed, I would not look at Miss Desloge, lest I embarrass 
her, but I could not refrain from a glance at the big American 
standing at my side, to see how he took the revelation that this 
beautiful young woman whom we had both concluded from her 
air must be at least a duchess in disguise was but a maid, and 
in service to Miss Livingston. To my surprise he seemed not 
even to have heard the words. His eyes were glowing, his 
whole face was irradiated with some strong inner feeling or 
combination of feelings, where love and admiration shone para- 
mount. In a low and suppressed voice, as one awe-struck, he 
whispered : 

“Did you see him? It’s the Little Lion! It’s Hamilton 
himself ! ” 


VI 


PESTILENCE AND STORM GREET MY ARRIVAL 

I T took some time to get our big boat alongside the wharf 
and safely moored there with dropped anchors and strong 
cables over the pier heads, and while the sailors were bringing 
the great ship to with much shouting and weird chanting, after 
the manner of sailors, I stole a glance at Mademoiselle Des- 
loge. Her cheek was burning, as I had expected to find it, but 
when, feeling my eyes on her, no doubt, she turned quickly to- 
ward me, there was in her glance neither overwhelming confu- 
sion nor pained embarrassment, both of which I had dreaded to 
meet. Indeed, I could not be quite sure what her expression 
meant, and I fear the confusion and embarrassment were mine, 
when she said in a tone so low that in all the bustle about us no 
one else could hear : 

“Did I not tell you it was neither right nor fitting, Sir 
Lionel ? " 

Was that a teasing smile that for a moment curled her scarlet 
lips? Was that a saucy twinkle in her glorious dark eyes? 
And was she laughing at my discomfiture ? I answered her with 
dignity : 

“ If I can be of any assistance to Mademoiselle Desloge in 
disembarking I hope she will command me; it is at least as 
right and fitting for me to offer her my services as for the great 
Hamilton." 

She did not answer but turned quickly away to hide some 
emotion, for the glimpse of her cheek turned from me, the 
slender neck and daintily set ear, were all a rosy red, but whether 
from distress or merriment I could not be sure. 

And what cared I which it was, I said to myself indignantly. 
What mattered to me the vagaries of a French lady’s maid, born 

60 


PESTILENCE AND STORM 


61 


coquette and practised in the wiles of coquetry? and I turned 
once more to watch the preparations for landing. The cables 
had been caught and the nooses slipped over the pier heads and 
now the great windlasses were turning and with much noise of 
creaking and grinding we were drawing steadily to the wharf. 
In a moment more the gang-plank was shoved out and those 
standing ready with their bags and bundles in their hands 
rushed across and were received with open arms by waiting 
friends. 

Neither the American nor Miss Desloge nor I had been among 
these. The American was waiting to superintend the disem- 
barking of his great horse, Bourbon Prince; Miss Desloge was 
waiting for Mr. Hamilton to come on board after her (which 
seemed to me to savor somewhat of presumption toward the 
great statesman on the part of a lady’s maid), and I knew not 
for what I W'as waiting. For now that I was to leave the 
friendly ship and set foot on a foreign soil — none too friendly, 
I knew, to a Briton — my heart sank within me, and, but for 
my word to my father, I should have liked to keep my quarters 
on shipboard and go back with the jolly captain on his return 
voyage. Mr. Hamilton’s words, “ Mr. Livingston is ill,” had 
struck painfully on my ears for more reasons than one. Was 
this my Mr. Livingston, the one to whom I was accredited? 
who had sent me such cordial letters of invitation to come at 
once to his house on landing? And if he were ill, why had he 
not also sent Mr. Hamilton for me? Was I not of as much con- 
sequence as a lady’s maid ? 

But I did not long indulge in this childish and pettish 
humor. I took thought with myself that I had been sent abroad 
for the avowed purpose of learning self-reliance and independ- 
ence; in less than two years I should have reached man’s legal 
estate. Let me show myself already a man in determination 
and courage, if not quite one in years. 

By this time Mr. Hamilton had wedged his way through the 
pushing throng across the gang-plank and, directed by the 
captain, was now approaching us. I watched him curiously. 
I intended to observe his manner toward Miss Desloge; possibly 


62 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


in this land of liberty, lady’s maids were on equal terms with 
ladies. If it should prove so, I would be genuinely glad for Miss 
Desloge’s sake, for lady’s maid or not, I had found her a young 
woman of brilliant intellect and fine accomplishments, and I 
did not doubt she had been reduced to service by the exigencies 
of the Eevolution and the Terror. 

But before he had a chance to address Miss Desloge he had 
discovered the big American and greeted him most cordially. 
I saw my friend flush with pleasure as he bent low before him, 
and I was struck by the fact that Mr. Hamilton, small and 
dark, lost nothing in dignity as he received the respectful 
salutations of the big blond American, who towered nearly 
head and shoulders above him. It pleased me to see it, for I 
am rather small and somewhat swarthy myself, both of which 
facts have at times been a source of trial to me, who admire 
my fair countrymen and regard inches, in both height and 
breadth, as one of the first requisites to manliness. It pleased 
me, because I determined on the spot that, though I could never 
be a great man like Hamilton, yet I might hope to be looked up 
to by my fellows, since it seemed inches had little to do with 
merit and renown. 

But though I could not but feel a keen curiosity in watching 
so great a man at such close range I was nervously interested 
in Miss Desloge’s fate — what courtesy would be accorded her, 
whether scant or sufficient — and involuntarily my glance fell 
swiftly on Miss Desloge as I saw Mr. Hamilton turn toward 
her. To my surprise it was myself, not Mr. Hamilton she was 
regarding, and as my eyes met hers she spoke hastily as if she 
had been watching for this opportunity: 

“ Sir Lionel, I hope you will let me thank you for your 
courtesy to a stranger, and will not think me bold when I say 
not ‘ farewell ’ but ‘ au revoir.’ ” 

I felt awkward and uncertain how to reply to this speech, ut- 
tered very seriously and sweetly, and which, if she had but been 
a young lady in my own class of life, might easily have set all my 
pulses to fluttering and the red blood rushing to my face. But 
she gave me no chance to decide what to say or how to say it. 


PESTILENCE AND STORM 


63 


for at the last word she turned quickly and, Mr. Hamilton 
being close beside her now, I saw him extend his hand, and 
without the slightest condescension in voice or face, say cour- 
teously : 

“ Mademoiselle Desloge, I believe? Then I am to take you 
in charge. You will come with me to the Grange, where you 
will stay until other arrangements are made for you. Mr. Liv- 
ingston is ill with yellow fever.” 

“ Yellow fever!” I exclaimed involuntarily, and “ Yellow 
fever ! ” Miss Desloge and the American echoed in concert. 

I could see Miss Desloge pale as she spoke, and I had no 
doubt the horror I had always felt of any plague, but most of 
all of this one which was the dread scourge of the new country, 
of which I had read much and heard many grewsome tales — I 
had no doubt this horror betrayed itself in my voice and in my 
countenance. 

“ Yes,” answered Mr. Hamilton, “ our city is once more dev- 
astated by the scourge. Mayor Livingston has been untiring in 
his devotion to the sick until he has at length himself fallen a 
victim, and though I have not of late years been a political 
friend to the Livingstons, as you know,” turning to the American, 
“yet there is no man in the city, friend or foe, who would not 
do his utmost now to serve the great and good Livingston, who 
has not spared himself in serving others.” 

This, then, was the cause of all those signs of woe we had 
noted in the people gathered on the wharf. A doomed city! 
It seemed to me as I looked off over its clustering houses, tree- 
embowered, and the spire of Trinity Church catching the first 
rays of the sun rising at our backs, that I could see a visible pall 
descending upon it, and such trembling horror seized me as I 
had never yet experienced. Had it been a horde of savages 
descending on the doomed city I would have been the first to 
seize my sword and rush to meet them, I was sure, for I have 
never thought myself a coward, but this was the kind of foe with 
whom I had no weapons to contend, and whose very name struck 
unreasoning terror to my heart. 

I could not discover any signs of terror in the American. 


64 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


He bore himself very steadily in face of the appalling tidings, 
and his first thought seemed to be not for himself but for 
me. 

“ You must go home with me, Sir Lionel,” he said earnestly. 
“ I cannot give you the kind of welcome I should like to, for it 
may be to a house of mourning I am taking you, but at least it 
will be a safe refuge.” 

“ No, not to a house of mourning,” interposed Mr. Hamilton 
quickly. “ How could I have been so thoughtless as not to have 
given you my tidings at once! Your father is still living, and 
my last reports are that he is even gaining a little. It was ‘ a 
stroke/ you know ? ” 

I do not think he had known until this moment what had 
been the nature of his father’s illness, and the suddenness of 
the information, together with the assurance that his father still 
lived, was too much for the steady-nerved fellow, whose calm- 
ness had sometimes seemed to me to border on the phlegmatic. 
He turned away to hide his weakness, and Mr. Hamilton ad- 
dressed me directly: 

“ Do I understand you to be Sir Lionel Marchmont ? Mr. 
Livingston was not expecting you on this boat and now his 
house is no place for you — you must come with me to the 
Grange.” 

Here was American hospitality indeed. Two invitations 
within a minute and both of them offered so heartily it was 
evident they were no mere matter of form. But I was not 
going to accept either of them. Such kindness to a stranger 
could be little less than charity; and though both my would-be 
hosts urged their hospitality with such vehemence that declining 
it began to be an embarrassment, I steadfastly persisted in my 
purpose to find an inn of some kind; and the American, seeing 
that I was determined, said he would go with me to the City 
Tavern, where he might have to delay for a day if the stage to 
Philadelphia should not be going and if he could find no private 
conveyance, for, after the long sea voyage, Bourbon would be in 
no condition to start at once on such a journey. Whereupon 
Mr. Hamilton invited us both to dinner at the Grange, an in- 


PESTILENCE AND STORM 


65 


vitation which I accepted at once, with pleasure, and the Ameri- 
can conditionally. 

To put one’s feet on terra firma after five weeks on a rolling, 
pitching or sliding deck, as the case might be, is a curious sensa- 
tion. I had experienced no qualms of seasickness on shipboard, 
but now I found my head spinning and my limbs stagger- 
ing under me. My big friend seemed to feel no such incon- 
venience, but seeing my plight he called a pony-chair, evidently 
waiting to be hired, and directed the black in charge to drive me 
at once to the City Tavern, while he stayed to look after his 
horse and his two negroes, Cassar and Chloe. 

“ Gwine to de City T'abern, Marse Cap’n ? ” asked the black 
as he put my bag at my feet. 

There was no resisting his mellow tones and his cordial grin. 
I had felt half afraid of him at first, being totally unused to 
negroes, but now I resigned myself comfortably to his care and 
he proved himself a most loquacious guide as well as a skillful 
Jehu. 

It was a dismal drive; for though it was along a street finer 
than I could have hoped to find in this new world, with hand- 
some residences solidly built of brick and stone lining both sides 
of it, and heavily shaded with some of the finest elms I had 
ever seen and with a species of maple entirely new to me and 
very beautiful, yet the handsome houses were most of them 
closed with heavily barred shutters of wood, and the street itself 
was almost deserted, and so silent that my light pony-chair, rat- 
tling over its stones, waked hollow echoes from the empty dwell- 
ings frowning silently down on us. 

My garrulous guide told me that this was Wall Street and 
pointed out the remains of the old wall from which it took its 
name, built to protect the village from the savages in an earlier 
day. He knew, also, who dwelt in every house and uttered 
their names with pompous pride as if I would recognize them 
at once as those of men of note, but most of them were un- 
familiar to my ears and made little impression upon me. More- 
over, he volunteered an explanation of the closed houses. In 
this one, three members of the family had died of the scourge; 

5 


66 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


from the next, the household had fled early to their country 
seat on the Bloomingdale Eoad in the upper part of the island ; 
in the third, the bride of a week had been stricken down and 
the frantic young husband had been carried out a raving maniac 
and confined for safe keeping in the Bridewell. 

They were grewsome tales but there was no stopping the 
black, who seemed to gloat over the telling of them, rolling his 
eyes in ghoulish delight. Moreover, the air was heavy with 
the stench of burning gunpowder and vinegar and garlic which 
yet could not entirely disguise the more offensive odor they 
were intended to cover. It was the hour of the day when the 
air should have been drenched with dew, and sweet and cool 
with the freshness of the early morning, but, though the sun had 
hardly risen, it was already glowering at us like a ball of fire 
through thick and poisonous vapors which seemed to steam up 
from the very earth itself. My heart was sick within me; a 
hundred times in the course of that short drive I wished my- 
self back in the fair green meadows of my native Devonshire, 
breathing its cool fresh air, swept clean and sweet by ocean 
breezes. 

Before an imposing building with pillared porch and sculp- 
tured pediment and metopes, my sable Jehu drew up a moment. 

“ De Federal building, sah,” he said with infinite pride. 
And then waving his hand toward an upper balcony : 

“In dat sacred spot, sah, Marse George Washington stood 
when he tuk de oath of office as fust President ob de United 
States.” 

The air of pride with which he rolled this majestic sentence 
between his teeth was delicious. I glanced up at the balcony 
with real interest. Then he had trod these very streets ! Over 
the narrow brick sidewalk in front of the stately building his 
feet had often passed ! I had come three years too late to see, 
take him all in all, the greatest man the world had ever known, 
but I could visit the scenes of his exploits; I would, without 
doubt, meet the men who had known him well ; indeed, this very 
afternoon I was to dine with the man whom he had dearly loved 
and delighted to honor. For the moment my mal-de-terre, my 


PESTILENCE AND STORM 


67 


home-sickness, my horror of this scourge-infected air were all 
forgotten. And then from the spire of the church standing at 
the head of the street, a bell began to toll the death knell. 

There was a sudden commotion before a house a few doors 
down on a street opening just where we stood into the one we 
were traversing. I glanced down the street. A rough cart had 
drawn up before a handsome house; a half dozen negroes with 
shouts and loud commands and much unseemly noise were 
carrying a rude box with its heavy burden out of the house, 
followed by a woman, shrieking, whom some men were evi- 
dently trying to soothe and restrain. The blacks deposited 
the box unceremoniously in the cart and drove off rapidly down 
the street, careless of the jolting box beside them and of the 
shrieking woman left behind. Two of the men, who had been 
trying to comfort her, sprang upon waiting horses and spurred 
them into a gallop to overtake the cart, and the remaining two 
forced the frantic woman with gentle violence back into the 
house. And through it all the bell of Trinity tolled dismally. 

I had been spellbound by the horrible scene nor could I 
shake off the spell until the woman had disappeared within 
her doors. 

“ Go on ! ” I said sharply, rousing myself, and the black, with 
rolling eyes half starting from his head, and showing all the 
white, whipped up his horse and in a moment we had reached 
the head of the street, turned to the right in front of Trinity 
Church with its bells still dismally tolling in its high spire, 
and just beyond the church drew up in front of a great hos- 
telry. 

My head was still going around and my knees very uncer- 
tain, and strange qualms in the region of my stomach forbade 
the thought of eating or drinking and I tarried only long 
enough in the crowded office, thronged with passengers from the 
Sea Gull, to get a room assigned me to which I was conducted 
by another black boy — of whom there seemed to be legions 
swarming about the inn. 

My room proved to be comfortable enough, and clean, I was 
glad to discover. The boy put down my hand luggage and dis- 


68 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


appeared, but reappeared in a moment with a pitcher of fresh 
drinking water which he assured me gravely was from “ the tea- 
water pump.” What difference that made I did not know then, 
though I learned later that the water from this famous pump 
was regarded as the only perfectly safe drinking water on the 
island, and that, no doubt, the city owed its frequent scourges 
of yellow fever to the general impurity of its wells. It was 
deliciously cool and refreshing; I quaffed a glass of it eagerly 
and turned to the window to see if I could find a breath of 
air stirring, for with both windows open my room was yet 
insufferably hot and close. 

But I found no relief at the window. I looked out on a 
broad thoroughfare lined with trees from which every leaf hung 
drooping and lifeless. Milkmen were going about the street 
with great cans of milk suspended from yokes slung about their 
shoulders, but their cries of “ Milk, ho, Milk ! ” sounded list- 
less and half-hearted through the heavy air, and the call of 
a solitary vendor of “pure cold water from the tea-water 
pump,” bearing enormous cans after the fashion of the milk- 
men, was no more cheery or inspiring. The hour was early, 
but not so early that it could account for the deserted aspect 
of the principal thoroughfare of the town, as I had been in- 
formed “the Broadway” was; no doubt the scourge was re- 
sponsible, and I fell to bemoaning once more a fate that had 
cast me upon these shores at such an untoward moment. 

I had not observed that the skies had been growing darker, 
but at a sound of low and distant rumbling I glanced up and 
discovered heavy thunderheads rapidly moving up from the 
southwest, and in a few moments there burst upon the pest- 
ridden city the most terrific storm I had ever witnessed, ac- 
companied by a sudden clash and roar of wind that seized the 
listless trees and bent and twisted them into writhing shapes, 
and tore off great limbs and sent tiles from roofs and chimneys 
flying through the air. My windows faced the east so that I 
could keep them open without being exposed to the violence 
of the wind and rain which was driving in solid walls of water 
across the island to the accompaniment of an incessant roar 


PESTILENCE AND STORM 


69 


of thunder, interrupted by tremendous crashes and sudden and 
blinding flashes of lightning. 

It was a magnificent spectacle but it was all over in fifteen 
minutes. The storm cleared away as rapidly as it had arisen, 
leaving the air wonderfully freshened and cleared from the 
noisome vapors of the morning. 

“ *T is a strange land/* I said to myself, “ where the morn- 
ing hours are hotter than England’s noondays, and where its 
refreshing showers take the form of tropical tornadoes.” 

I was still giddy and headachy and in no mood for break- 
fast, and wondering idly what had become of my friend, the 
big American, through the violence of the storm, but quite sure 
that he was well able to take care of himself, I pulled off my 
boots and coat and threw myself on the inviting-looking bed 
for a few moments* rest until the American should make his 
appearance. I did not intend to go to sleep, and, for the first 
few moments, a great wave of longing for home and Peggy 
engulfed me. Yes, Peggy, of whom I had thought but little 
of late, the Peggy I had known in dear old Oxford; a Peggy, 
that I knew now had never had any real existence, but for 
whom in my homesick thoughts I still miserably longed. 

And then, suddenly, without warning, sleep descended like a 
pall and wrapped my senses in a heavy, dreamless slumber. 


YII 


I MEET A WIT 

I WAS roused by a vigorous grip of my shoulder. Through 
my dulled senses, still dazed by my heavy sleep, I heard an 
energetic voice: 

“ Come, you have slept long enough ; it is time to be dressing 
for dinner ! ” 

I opened my eyes slowly and looked into the smiling eyes 
of my big American bending above me. Por a moment I 
could not recall myself to my surroundings, for, if most of 
my slumber had been dreamless, the latter part of it had been 
crowded with visions in which the face and form of Mademoiselle 
Desloge, promenading the ship’s deck beside me on a stormy 
ocean, galloping with me through the sweet Devonshire lanes, 
bending over me as nurse and guardian while I lay dying of 
the terrible yellow scourge, had been most persistent. 

“ Where am I ? Where did you come from ? What time is 
it?” I asked, all in a breath, as I struggled to my feet and 
began to throw off my lethargy. 

“ It ’s nearly two o’clock and we are to dine at the Grange 
at four. I have been in here a dozen times through the morn- 
ing but you were sleeping so soundly I had n’t the heart to dis- 
turb you. Now you will have barely time to dress and take a 
bite of breakfast, which I have ordered to your rooms. We 
must be off by half past two.” 

There was a knock at the door as he finished speaking and 
one of the innumerable black Mercurys entered bearing a tray 
whose appetizing odors convinced me at the same moment that 
my long sleep had effectually cured me of my land-illness and 
that I was as hungry as a bear. It was a breakfast for two 
and as we sat about the little table the black boy deftly spread 

70 


I MEET A WIT 


71 


for us, devouring, with the relish of hungry men, good land 
food, such as our five weeks on the sea had made us strangers 
to, the American explained his arrangements for the afternoon. 
He had ordered a curricle, since we would arrive in better 
shape for dinner by curricle than by horse, and it would be at 
the door in three-quarters of an hour — could I be ready? 

I was ready, and though I did not cut so fine a figure as the 
American — who would have outshone all other men had he 
been dressed in rags, and in his fine Parisian clothes was a 
figure indeed — though I could not hope to rival him in my 
personal appearance, I was quite satisfied with myself, since I 
had donned my best, and, being something of a philosopher in 
those days, I resolved to think no more of my looks but be free 
to enjoy to the best of my ability whatever pleasant things were 
in store for me. 

Bowling along at a lively pace over a country road where 
every atom of dust had been laid, and the heavy foliage of the 
overhanging trees had been washed crisp and shining by the 
tremendous downpour of the morning, we came to a great 
country place just as a carriage drawn by a pair of spirited 
horses rolled through the gates. Leaning back among the 
cushions of the carriage was a very striking-looking young 
woman — I hardly knew whether or not to call her beautiful — 
and by her side was a young man whose glowing eyes and air 
of devotion, noticeable even to the passing glance, betrayed his 
interest in his companion. 

“It must be Theodosia Burr/’ said the American in a low 
tone, as he drew to one side to give the road to the carriage. 
The gentleman lifted his hat and the lady bowed slightly in 
acknowledgment of the courtesy, and I was struck with the 
exceeding beauty of the smile that accompanied the bow. I was 
also impressed by the air of distinction in the man, a young 
fellow about my own age. 

“A goodly pair,” I answered, “but who is Theodosia Burr, 
and who is the young man so openly in love with her ? ” 

“ I don’t know the man,” said my friend, “ nor, indeed, do 
I know Miss Burr. But I am quite sure it is she, and the 


72 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


man is, no doubt, one of the many reputed victims of her 
charms.” 

“ But who is Miss Burr ? ” I persisted. “ She is certainly 
endowed with a fascinating smile.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” he apologized, “ I could not have ex- 
pected her fame to reach across the water, though we hear so 
much of her here. She is the daughter of our Vice-president, 
and this place we are passing is Eichmond Hill, his home. It ’s 
a famous old place and has had many famous occupants. Our 
first Vice-president, John Adams, lived here; early in the war 
it was Washington’s headquarters and later it was the head- 
quarters of your own army under Sir Guy Carleton.” 

I looked off with keen interest to where at a distance, across 
park-like grounds, the chimneys and roofs of a great house 
were visible among the trees. 

“ Washington and Carleton ! ” I exclaimed. “ It is a beautiful 
place, and I should much like to see it at closer range since 
it has been headquarters for two such distinguished soldiers.” 

“ Doubtless you will. Mr. Burr is no friend of Mr. Hamil- 
ton’s politically, but there has never been any rupture socially, 
I believe, and his daughter is very warmly loved and admired 
by all the Hamiltons from the general down. I think it likely 
she is on her way to the Grange now and you will have the 
pleasure of dining with her and no doubt be invited to call.” 

I might have felt more excitement at the prospect of meeting 
the fascinating Theodosia but that with every roll of the wheels 
bearing us smoothly along this picturesque country road I was 
growing, unaccountably, more and more nervous with the per- 
sistent conjecture as to whether or no I was also likely to meet 
Miss Desloge — and, if I did meet her, how I was to conduct 
myself in her presence. Mr. Hamilton’s manner to her made 
it seem quite possible that here in America she would be hon- 
ored as a guest, instead of being treated as a servant. What 
if I should find myself seated beside her at table ! 

I hope that I was not quite the snob that my perturbation 
at this thought would seem to indicate me. Indeed, I could 
not explain to myself why I should be so disturbed or why I 


I MEET A WIT 


73 


need find it difficult to treat her exactly as her host treated 
her, with the simple courtesy due any woman so situated — 
any lady, I might truthfully say of Miss Desloge. 

Our road lay along the crest of a ridge for the greater part 
of the way, giving us frequent glimpses of a majestic river 
on our left, dotted with white sails. Across the river — which 
was here broad and more like an arm of the sea than like any 
river I had ever known — were rocky bluffs crowned with hang- 
ing woods. ’T was the J ersey shore, my companion told me, 
and across the river and across that state of Jersey lay his 
homeward road to Philadelphia. 

We passed many other beautiful country places, and my 
friend, who seemed to know who lived in most of them, told 
me we were on the western side of that famous “ fourteen mile 
round,” Washington’s favorite drive when he lived in New York 
as President. Not far beyond Richmond Hill we passed the 
gates of Mr. William Bayard’s place. Looking up an avenue 
of elms I could see a pillared porch and I gazed at it, thinking 
it a very pleasant place, but with no thought that I should one 
day be standing on that porch with many others, tears running 
down our faces unheeded, while we waited breathlessly for news 
of the man within. 

We passed through the quaint little village of Greenwich and 
a little farther on took a short cross-road to the right and came 
out on the Bloomingdale Road at the foot of a high hill cov- 
ered with the wooded park of a gentleman’s estate, and a fine 
house in the distance crowning the summit of the hill. The 
house was called Inclenburg and the hill Murray Hill, the Amer- 
ican said, and drew up for a minute to show me how General 
Putnam’s troops, guided by the young Aaron Burr in their 
retreat from the city, slipped by Murray Hill, while the British 
who had landed on the east side of the island at Kip’s Bay, 
were resting in the Inclenburg woods, and Mrs. Murray, in the 
house, was feasting the officers and charming them with her gay 
wit into forgetfulness of their duty, so giving the Americans 
their chance to escape. 

“ My father has often told me,” said the American, as he drew 


74 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


his long lash lightly across his horse’s ears and we started on 
again at a lively pace, “that to Mrs. Murray, almost as much 
as to young Burr, belonged the honor of saving the army from 
falling into the hands of the British in their retreat from New 
York.” 

I was intensely interested in it all, for at Oxford, as we 
studied that American war, my heart had always been more on 
the side of the Pitts and young Charles Fox than with Lord 
North and the old King. And many a lively discussion had I 
had with old Hardwick, my tutor, who thought it treason to 
His Majesty to feel any sympathy with the colonies in their 
struggle for freedom. 

Three miles beyond Inclenburg we came to another village 
which the Dutch had well named Bloomingdale, and from there 
on our road lay just above the great river, past the Apthorpe 
place with a finer mansion than any I had yet seen, which my 
friend said still belonged to the Apthorpes, who were “ Tories ” 
but took no part in the struggle. Then, through the quaint 
village of Manhattanville, and just where a road branched off 
to the right, to the still quainter village of Harlem, we began to 
climb Harlem Heights, where one of the first great battles of the 
war took place. 

Talking thus of many things, some sober, some gay and deeply 
interested in them all, I was surprised at the shortness of the 
drive when, at a sudden turn, my friend drew up before a 
great gate and handing me the reins, sprang down, opened the 
gate and asked me to drive through, while I stupidly sat waiting 
for someone to run out from a porter’s lodge. 

There was no porter’s lodge, nor, indeed, was there any park 
such as we have at home, but there were large grounds, beau- 
tifully rolling and heavily shaded, and a winding drive leading 
up to where the chimneys of a house showed in the distance. 
It was evidently a gentleman’s place and I knew, of course, it 
must be the Grange, and began to feel some trepidation at the 
thought of meeting the great man and his family, which was 
not lessened by the sounds of laughter and the mingling of 
many voices as we drew nearer. We had been rolling through 


I MEET A WIT 


75 

a long green lane, with soft turf under our horses* feet, and the 
trees so heavily arched over our heads as to make a semi-twi- 
light, very grateful on the hot afternoon. Now, at a sudden 
turn, we came full upon the face of the house, and before it, 
scattered over a lawn shaded by tall trees, what seemed at the 
first glance a very large company indeed. The light dresses of 
the ladies made a confused blur of many colors in my eyes and 
I looked quickly away from them to where a group of four men, 
evidently just arrived, were talking to the great Hamilton him- 
self. At the sound of our curricle wheels, Mr. Hamilton turned 
toward us, saluted us with a flashing smile, and at a word from 
him the group of men walked quickly toward us with the evi- 
dent intention of giving us welcome. This seemed to me so 
different to our colder English fashion that I must needs feel 
myself color, greatly to my vexation, and when the curricle was 
brought to a standstill I fear I made an awkward figure 
alighting in the face of those smiling eyes and out-stretched 
hands. 

In the confusion of presentations that followed the faces of 
two of the men graved themselves on my mind at the first 
glance, as if they were etched with steel, and they were the two 
I was destined later to know to my sorrow. 

“ This is Mr. Morris of Morrisania, Sir Lionel/* Mr. Ham- 
ilton had said in presenting to me the handsomest man in the 
party, and when the greetings were over I turned to him. 

“ I met a Mr. Eoger Morris from New York in London, Mr. 
Morris,** I said, “but it was some years ago and I was but a 
lad, was that — ** 

“No relation. Sir Lionel ! ** Mr. Morris interrupted quickly, 
with a humorous shake of his head, implying horror at the 
thought. “Your Mr. Morris was a Tory and refused to take 
up arms against his sovereign, and I was a rebel, sir.** 

“ This is Mr. Gouverneur Morris,** Mr. Hamilton explained 
pleasantly, “at present our senator from New York in the Con- 
gress of the United States.** 

“ And chiefly distinguished for his colossal impertinence,** the 
other returned smilingly. “ Mr. Troup came out to make me 


76 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


a visit at Morrisania and I suggested that we ride over to the 
Grange and invite ourselves to dinner. We met Mr. Burr and 
Mr. La Force at the gates and now Mr. Hamilton’s dinner party 
is augumented by four unexpected guests. I am sure you are 
not so uncivilized in England.” 

I really thought we were not, but of course I could not say 
so, and one of the two men who had made such an impression on 
me at the first glance saved me the necessity of saying anything. 

“Mr. Hamilton owes me a dinner,” he said in a voice that 
reminded me of a river of oil flowing over deep waters, so 
smooth and rich was it in quality and pitched a good tone lower 
than the voices of the others. “ He stole my daughter and he 
cannot expect me to dine alone. I met Mr. La Force by the 
Collect Pond on his way to call on Theodosia, and, knowing 
she was here, I did as Mr. Morris did, brought my guest with 
me. And if I did not demand dinner for us both the hint was 
sufficient for a gentleman of such well-known hospitality as 
Mr. Hamilton.” 

Not till he spoke of his daughter had I realized that this was 
the Vice-president of the United States, and although his face 
had already made a vivid impression upon me, I looked at him 
again eagerly — a slender boyish figure, features classically 
beautiful and a glowing dark eye that fascinated me in spite 
of a lurking gleam in its depths that I did not altogether like. 
He and Hamilton were not unlike, though Hamilton’s face was 
the more beautiful and by far the more trustworthy, I said to 
myself, and the eyes franker and more genial. 

It is possible Mr. Burr recognized that I had been at- 
tracted by him, for, as we all moved over toward the group of 
ladies under the elms, he fell back beside me and entered into 
a pleasant chat over the political situation at home, with which 
he seemed thoroughly familiar as, indeed, from his high posi- 
tion as Vice-president, I should have expected him to be. I 
could not pay as close attention or make as sensible replies as 
I might have done, had not every word uttered by either of us 
been bringing us a step nearer to that interesting group on the 
lawn among whom I looked in vain — and whether my feeling 


I MEET A WIT 


77 


betook more of disappointment or of relief I could not be 
sure — for Mademoiselle Desloge. 

A little lady, very charming but no longer young, separated 
herself from the group and came toward us: 

“ My dear Lloyd ! ” she exclaimed, both hands outstretched 
to the big American, “ welcome home ! ” 

Her face sparkled with animation and something very like 
affection as Lloyd bent low over her hand and, indeed, raised it 
to his lips, after the fashion he had learned, I suppose, in 
France. Without waiting for her husband to present me she 
turned to me and made me at home at once with her kindly 
greeting. She was dressed all in white except for a knot of 
black ribbon in the lace of her cap, which, I supposed, indicated 
mourning for someone, though I did not know until later that 
it was for the eldest son, killed in a duel two years before. 

“ Betty,” said her husband, interrupting her pretty speeches 
to me, "here are four hungry men; can you give them some- 
thing to eat?” 

Mrs. Hamilton turned with a little French shrug, but also 
with a smile of real affection, to Mr. Morris: 

“ I have a great mind to send you and Mr. Troup back to 
Morrisania dinnerless. Why did you refuse to come yesterday, 
when we were all alone, and come to-day when you will be sure 
to monopolize the guests we want for ourselves ? ” 

And then with a shade of reserve and a courtesy that was 
gracious yet somewhat stately, she turned to Mr. Burr: 

"You are very welcome to our poor table, Mr. Burr, and 
any friend the Vice-president brings with him is welcome also. 
I am sure if fowl or pasty fall short you will make all due 
allowance.” 

As Mr. Burr presented Mr. La Force I saw to my amaze- 
ment that he was a perfect stranger, thus shamelessly — so it 
seemed to me — thrust upon a dinner party. Yet none of the 
others seemed to think this remarkable, and I concluded it was 
the manner of the country. A moment later I found myself 
making my bow, first to the young lady of the house, Miss An- 
gelica, whose name did not belie her looks; and then to the 


78 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


owner of that strangely fascinating face I had seen in the car- 
riage, who proved to be, as Lloyd had supposed, Mr. Burr’s 
daughter, but no longer Miss Burr, since she had been for a 
year the wife of a Mr. Alston of South Carolina and was now 
home on a visit to her father. She returned my bow with an- 
other of those enchanting smiles, though what struck me most 
was the look of adoration with which her face fairly glowed as 
her glance rested on her father. 

There were two or three other young men and maidens whose 
names I did not easily distinguish, but I saw nowhere the young 
man we had met in the carriage with Mrs. Alston. As soon 
as possible after the introductions Mr. Hamilton drew me aside : 

“ A word in your ear, Sir Lionel, if you please,” he said, and 
led me off with him toward a small shrubbery nearby. 

“It seems,” he began, as soon as we were out of ear-shot of 
the others, “ that I made an unpardonable blunder this morn- 
ing. I supposed, in good faith, that I was going to meet Miss 
Livingston’s maid, but Miss Livingston herself, who arrived at 
noon on her father’s sloop, is quite indignant at the suggestion. 
She says Mademoiselle Desloge is a paid companion ■, hired for 
the improvement of her French ; that she is thoroughly respect- 
able and that she intends to take her everywhere into society 
with her. She insists that she shall be presented at dinner this 
afternoon and she is at this moment waiting with Mademoiselle 
Desloge in the shrubbery until I shall have made this explana- 
tion to you. They insist on my making it, lest you should 
think that in this country we have ladies’ maids at table with 
us. I cannot sufficiently regret such a discourtesy to Miss Des- 
lodge” — and with that we turned the corner of the shrubbery 
and came flat upon two young ladies and two young gentlemen. 

One of the young ladies, without doubt, was Miss Livingston, 
tall and with an air of distinction. She looked up quickly at 
the sound of our feet on the gravel, but the other did not seem 
to notice us, for the young man beside her was evidently tell- 
ing her a capital tale, laughing hilariously at his own wit, and 
she, I noted jealously, too absorbed in the handsome young fel- 
low to see an old acquaintance. It was the young man who had 


I MEET A WIT 


79 


seemed so interested in Mrs. Alston in the carriage, and I made 
up my mind on the spot not to like him, since he was evidently 
of that light-headed class, taken with every new face, married 
or unmarried, if it be but a pretty one, and to whom women, 
even those who ought to know better, are always unaccountably 
attracted. 

But while I was thinking these thoughts I was making my 
bow to Miss Livingston and taking a close scrutiny of her, since 
I was interested to know into what kind of hands Miss Desloge’s 
future was to be entrusted. On the whole, I rather liked her. 
She was decidedly handsome, though she suffered a little in 
comparison with Miss Desloge’s beauty, as every woman needs 
must. But it was the look of frank good nature in her eyes 
that pleased me most, and though I was soon to learn that she 
could be sarcastic when she chose, her sarcasm was of that com- 
paratively mild type, not wholly inconsistent with amiability. 
But I was also soon to learn a thing which seemed far more in- 
compatible with amiability than mild sarcasm, that Miss Liv- 
ingston could be, to her dependents, haughty and imperious to a 
degree. 

It had flashed through my mind that it was a strange thing 
to see her at a dinner party when her father was perhaps dying 
in the city with yellow fever, and I was relieved therefore when 
a few minutes later she said to me: 

“ You must not think me heartless, Sir Lionel. I was greatly 
vexed, on my arrival at noon, to find a party on hand, though 
Mrs. Hamilton assured me that it was not a party but a wel- 
come home to a friend just returned from abroad, and to a 
friend of his arriving on the same ship, and that I need not 

feel I was showing any lack of concern in my uncle’s ill- 

ness by being present with the company. My father is still 
abroad, you know, but his sloop came down with one of my 
uncles aboard, hoping to find Uncle Edward well enough to be 
taken back to Clermont, and I took advantage of the oppor- 
tunity to come with him to meet Miss Desloge, though I was 

only allowed to come on my solemn promise to go no .nearer the 
city than the Grange.” 


80 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


“ Oh ! " I said stupidly, “ then Mr. Edward Livingston is not 
your father ? " 

“ Uncle Edward! Have you been thinking me so heartless 
as that ! Uncle Edward is far too young a man to be my father 
— his children are not yet in their teens." And then she added, 
I thought with a little touch of pride, “ I am the daughter of 
Mr. Eobert Livingston, at present serving his country as Am- 
bassador to the Eepublican court of France." 

“ Mr. Eobert Livingston ! " I exclaimed, glad of a bond to 
any person in this new, strange country. “ Your father/ then, 
is a friend of my father, and it is to him I am indebted for my 
letters of introduction in America and particularly for one to 
your Uncle Edward, I regret much to find him in such a sad 
state on my arrival." 

I thought she blushed a little when I said that, though I 
could not guess why, and it was fully a year before I learned that 
I was correct in thinking she blushed, and learned also the rea- 
son for it. 

But she rallied quickly from her discomfiture, if she felt any. 

“ I know now why you seemed like an old acquaintance when 
I met you," she said gayly. “ You know my father, at least by 
proxy." 

“ And am a friend by proxy, also," I returned gallantly, “ and 
shall therefore hope to be a friend of the daughter in persona ” 

Here the young man to whom she had been talking when we 
came up, and who had been presented in due course, broke in : 

“1 bid you beware, Sir Lionel. It is a dangerous thing to 
claim friendship with Miss Livingston; she puts it to some 
strange tests. I have thought for three years that I had a right 
to make that claim, but Miss Livingston has just convinced me 
that I have been over-presumptuous in so thinking." 

I thought Miss Livingston looked a little vexed at that. She 
colored again and answered with something like asperity : 

“ Three years ! Sir Lionel, you can see for yourself that 
three years ago Mr. Kemble was a mere lad, and I trust you can 
see that I was far too young to be thinking of friendships with 
lads." 



“ You know my father, at least by proxy ” 







/ 
























\ 





t 









# 



I MEET A WIT 


81 


Now I had been struck with the elegance of Mr. Kemble’s 
appearance and the courtliness of his manner, for which I was 
hardly prepared in so new a country. I could see that he liked 
neither Miss Livingston’s speech nor the manner of it, for he 
colored and bit his lip ; but he said no word in reply, only bowed 
low and turned again to Mr. Hamilton, with whom he had been 
conversing. 

All this time I had had no notice from Mademoiselle Desloge 
other than a slight nod, delivered carelessly between two smiles 
bestowed upon the man with whom, at some little distance, she 
was still conversing in a most particular manner, it seemed to 
me. Now I was to see the other phase of Miss Livingston. 

“ Mademoiselle Desloge,” she called imperiously, “ do you 
consider it good manners not to show any interest in a fellow 
ship-passenger? That may be courtesy in France; we do not 
so consider it in America.” 

I thought her irritation with Mr. Kemble must be responsi- 
ble for such an astounding speech and I wondered if there had 
been a lovers’ quarrel. Its effect on those hearing it was widely 
diverse. The man with whom Miss Desloge was talking stared 
for a moment at the speaker with round-eyed astonishment, 
then quickly dropped his eyes in embarrassment. Mr. Hamilton 
turned away and I did not see his face. A slight smile curled 
Mr. Kemble’s lips — I could not read its meaning; perhaps it 
expressed, superciliously, a previous acquaintance with the strange 
moods of the speaker. I glanced at Mademoiselle Desloge. 
A wave of color deluged the milky whiteness of neck and brow, 
her eyes were on the ground, and as the man beside her, quickly 
recovering from his embarrassment, turned to her and gallantly 
offered her his arm, she moved slowly toward us, still with 
downcast eyes. 

Hot with indignation at Miss Livingston, whom I had at first 
been inclined to like, I sprang eagerly to meet Mademoiselle 
Desloge and express my pleasure in the meeting. Miss Living- 
ston cut short my eager words, with intentional rudeness, I be- 
lieved. 

“ Allow me, Sir Lionel, to present to you Mr. Irving, Mr. 

6 


82 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


Washington Irving, the wit par excellence of New York society.” 

“ Do not make me feel like a fool par excellence , I beg, Miss 
Livingston,” he objected, which I thought showed better sense 
than I had given the fellow credit for. “ I hope, Sir Lionel,” 
he went on, “ that when you know me, you will discover I am 
neither a wit nor a fool.” 

And then to Miss Desloge, with a smile which, I had to con- 
fess, lit up his handsome face radiantly, “You have not found 
me either the one or the other, have you, Mademoiselle ? ” 

His smile was so gay and genial as he said it (though I 
thought his mouth too small and too beautifully formed for a 
man’s, and his milk-white teeth too evenly set) he almost won 
my liking in spite of me. 

“ Certainly not the fool,” Miss Desloge answered with a be- 
witching smile in return, “ but I will not swear that I have not 
found you the other.” 

“ Puppy ! Coxcomb ! ” I muttered under my breath and men- 
tally ground my teeth with rage. 


VIII 


THE SHADOW OF A COMING EVENT 

N OW at Oxford, though I had kept up my prescribed read- 
ing sufficiently to pass the Schools, and even perhaps with 
some credit to myself, if the episode of Peggy had not pre- 
vented, yet there was another kind of reading that I delighted 
in more. I reveled in poetry, and there were three new poets 
over whom Oxford was greatly excited at that time — Mr. 
Wordsworth, Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Southey. There was a 
little company of us who devoured their poems as they appeared 
and who believed that no English poets, save only the im- 
mortal Shakespeare, had ever written anything greater than The 
Ancient Mariner or Thalaba the Destroyer. I had tried my 
hand at ballads in imitation of those sweet ones of Mr. Words- 
worth, and, in my own estimation, I was not wholly unsuccess- 
ful in the art. Just before I left Oxford there had appeared a 
little volume of verses, “ Lays of Border Minstrelsy,” by a Mr. 
Scott, a Mr. Walter Scott whom nobody knew. Our little com- 
pany, who had formed themselves into a society of criticism and 
censorship on all new literary productions, were greatly divided 
as to its merits. Most of them said it was nothing but a col- 
lection of jingles and not even purporting to be original with 
the author. As to their originality I could not say, but I con- 
tended they had caught the very spirit of border life, and as 
to the jingles I confessed to a sneaking liking for a jingle so 
long as it did not jangle. But I was greatly in the minority, 
and Peggy appearing on my horizon soon after, I forgot all 
about Mr. Walter Scott for the time, forsook my company of 
critics and betook myself to solitude and the fashioning of son- 
nets a la Mr. Shakespeare. 

But poetry had not been my only delight. Any tale of love 

83 


84 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


and romance found a ready entrance to my mind. Sir Charles 
Grandison, Pamela and Clarissa Harlowe, and the romantic tales 
of Mrs. Kadcliffe, I eagerly devoured. But I loved even better 
the Italian tales of Mr. Boccaccio told in the Florentine villa 
by that gay company who had fled to the hills from the scourge- 
stricken city. Now all the while we were chattering under the 
trees waiting for Mrs. Hamilton’s dinner to be announced, there 
was running through my head, almost unconsciously, a com- 
parison between this gay company and the heartless ladies and 
gentlemen of the Decameron. It was something I was ill pre- 
pared for, to find Anglo-Saxons so coldly oblivious to the suf- 
fering of their neighbors, for not once, outside of Miss Liv- 
ingston’s explanation to me, was the subject of the scourge 
introduced. I wondered that these men, chivalrous and brave 
in their bearing, should not have emulated the good Livingston’s 
example, whose devotion to his fellow-citizens, I understood, 
had laid him low, and I began to despise the courtly Kemble 
as a mere coxcomb, the gay and witty Irving as an idle trifler, 
and the distinguished Morris, Troup and Hamilton as selfish 
aristocrats. 

But at dinner I changed my mind. I found that most of 
these men, all indeed except Mr. Burr and Mr. La Force, were 
members of a little company who were banded together for the 
nursing and care of the sick; that the company was divided 
into two groups, each nursing two days and resting two days; 
and that it was a matter of principle with them to spend their 
days of rest in such simple gayeties as might be found at the 
country-houses open to them, believing that thus they best pre- 
served themselves in the proper physical condition for their 
work. My heart glowed wdthin me when I gathered all this 
from their talk, and learned that on the morrow morning these 
men, so debonair, and some of them so courtly, would be hard 
at work in the worst stricken sections of the city, performing 
nauseous services for the sick and dying and dead. I turned 
to Mr. Irving, who was my near neighbor at table. 

“ You must admit me to your band,” I demanded, “ and set 


THE SHADOW OF A COMING EVENT 


85 


me to work at once. There must be enough work for another 
helper.” 

“ More than enough,” he responded courteously, “ but I think 
it hardly safe for a foreigner, so newly arrived and wholly 
unused to our climate, to venture into the limits of contagion.” 

Miss Desloge had not heard my request to Mr. Irving, which 
had purposely been preferred in low tones but she heard his 
response, and looked up at me in a startled way that seemed 
half terror and which was the first sign of interest in me she 
had shown since my arrival at the Grange. 

“ I believe for that very reason I would be fever-proof,” I 
insisted, “ since I am not full of the poison which breeds the 
fever in your climate.” 

But Mr. Hamilton interposed: 

“ No, no, it would never do, Sir Lionel ! Your father would 
never forgive us if we exposed you needlessly to the fever, and 
on your first arrival. Were Mr. Livingston, to whom you are 
accredited, and who, I suppose, would have some authority with 
you, in a condition to express his opinion, he would not listen 
to it for a minute.” 

“My father, sir,” I urged respectfully, “would be the first 
to approve of my purpose. He has sent me here to learn self- 
reliance and how to conduct myself in all the affairs of life. 
I can fancy no better school than a scourge-stricken city, and 
no better training than the nursing of the sick.” 

Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Irving were still unconvinced, and 
the topic having become general there was universal protest 
raised against an unacclimated stranger subjecting himself to 
such needless peril. Mr. Hamilton appealed to my friend 
Lloyd to use his influence with me, and as I turned to him, I 
found his eyes on me and glowing with what I was sure was ap- 
probation. 

“I think Sir Lionel is quite right,” he said gravely. “It 
is a man’s duty to help his fellow man whenever the occasion 
arises. I believe his father would have just cause to feel dis- 
satisfaction with him should he refuse his help. If a higher 


86 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


duty did not call me home immediately, I should be proud 
indeed to share his service.” 

Mr. Hamilton shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I always knew you were quixotic, Lloyd,” he said humor- 
ously. “ Mademoiselle Desloge, you are a Frenchwoman, and 
therefore a woman of sense, and you are an entirely dis- 
interested judge; I appeal to you.” 

To my surprise, Miss Desloge was very white, and it seemed 
to be with some difficulty that she controlled her voice to 
speak. 

“ It is very chivalrous and very noble of Sir Lionel to make 
the offer, but I agree with Mr. Hamilton,” she said in a low 
voice; “it is a useless sacrifice to expose one so entirely inex- 
perienced in hot climates and their diseases, and I am very 
sure Lord Marchmont would object strongly.” 

I was so foolishly elated that Miss Desloge should think me 
“ noble” that it did not occur to me until a long time after 
to wonder that my father’s title should come so glibly from her 
tongue. And if she had meant to dissuade me from my pur- 
pose she had gone the wrong way about it. If she thought 
it “ chivalrous ” in me to offer to help nurse the fever-stricken, 
then nothing anyone could say, not even herself, should per- 
suade me differently. 

Nor had I ever seen her so beautiful. On shipboard she 
had worn only such clothes as were suitable to a rough sea- 
voyage, and though they could not disguise her beauty, neither 
did they set it off as did the dainty frock of white India muslin, 
sprigged with rosebuds and decked with flowing lace and flutter- 
ing ribbons at neck and elbows. On shipboard her shoulders 
had always been decorously protected with a handkerchief and 
long sleeves covered her arms; now her gown was low enough 
to disclose shoulders and throat of drifted snow and the lace 
of her sleeves fell back from the elbow to bare an arm and taper- 
ing wrist more beautifully molded than any I had ever seen in 
marble. 

I had small chance to talk to her but I could see that young 
Irving and Mr. La Force were vying with each other to win 


THE SHADOW OF A COMING EVENT 


87 


her notice, and that Mr. Burr cast many admiring glances her 
way, and did not disdain to try those arts of fascination with 
her that, I learned later, had been so successful with many of 
his country-women. I was seated by Miss Livingston and she 
proved herself so entertaining that I forgot for the time my 
indignation with her at her treatment of Miss Desloge. I 
could not but observe that she kept a constant surveillance of 
her “companion,” yet it seemed, on the whole, a friendly one, 
though as she frequently directed my attention to her it be- 
came at times embarrassing to me. 

“ See,” she said in a confidential half-tone to me, “ the 
Vice-president himself is trying his arts. My protege must 
be a charmer indeed if Mr. Burr considers her worthy of his 
steel.” 

“ Is Mr. Burr so difficult to please ? ” I asked, not knowing 
what else to say. 

“ He would be difficult to please, indeed, I think, if Ma- 
demoiselle Desloge did not please him,” she answered, “in wit 
and beauty; but our Vice-president looks for wealth and social 
position as well in his victims. You know his reputation, do 
you not? No woman can withstand his wiles if he chooses to 
exert them.” 

“ But has he not a wife ? ” 

“ Oh, no, he is a widower, and a very gay one, though his 
devotion to his daughter is so great — they are such good com- 
rades — that he has never married again.” 

And then abruptly: 

“ Do you know, I do not like that Mr. La Force ! If he takes 
to making love to Mademoiselle I shall interfere. Oh la! 
I see I am to have my hands full with such a pretty companion. 
I ought to have secured an old and ugly one if I am to have 
any comfort. No doubt she will be stealing my own lovers 
presently, but when it comes to that, I fil send Missie back to 
France posthaste.” 

I did not doubt she would be as good as her word, and see- 
ing how every man that came near Mademoiselle Desloge fell a 
victim to her charms at once, I began to feel sorry for her. 


88 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“Who is this Mr. La Force that yon do not like?” I asked 
to divert her from Miss Desloge as a topic of conversation. 

“ My Uncle Edward’s confidential clerk. My uncle is mayor 
of the city, as you probably know, and also attorney of the 
State, and Mr. La Force serves him as clerk in both capacities, 
and Uncle Edward trusts him implicitly.” 

“ Your uncle knows him to be worthy of trust, I sup- 
pose.” 

“ Of course, but that does not prevent my disliking the way 
he uses his eyes, and his sleek French fashion of talking. He 
is one of Monsieur Genet’s proteges, and since Monsieur Genet 
married a Clinton and the Clintons and Livingstons are all 
good Eepublicans, I ought to like him, I suppose, but I can’t.” 

“ Is Mr. Burr a Eepublican also, and Mr. Hamilton ? ” I 
asked, beginning to feel interested in American politics. 

“Mr. Hamilton! He is a Federalist of the Federalists! I 
have heard Aunt Kitty Livingston say we were all good Federal- 
ists once, but the French Bevolution and Mr. Jefferson split us 
into two parties, and every Livingston became a French partisan 
and an ardent Eepublican.” 

“ And Mr. Burr ? ” 

“ La, how you put me through my catechism ! Are you an 
English spy?” 

“Not at all, but Mr. Burr interests me.” 

Miss Livingston hesitated. 

“ He ’s a Eepublican, too, I suppose, but some people say he 
is a Burrite, pure and simple. I do not believe Governor Clin- 
ton or my uncles thoroughly trust him, although he is of their 
party. But there, Mrs. Hamilton is giving us the signal. 
Don’t sit too long over your cups, please ; I want to return your 
catechism — about England.” 

I was one of the two young men who sprang up to hold back 
the doors for the ladies. Mr. La Force was the other. 

“Beware,” Miss Livingston whispered laughingly, as she 
passed me. “I believe Mr. La Force has designs on you. I 
caught him looking at you.” 

I hardly heard her, for Miss Desloge was immediately behind 


THE SHADOW OP A COMING EVENT 


89 


her, and I was determined to make her look at me and give me 
a chance to thank her for her expressed opinion of me. But 
I did not succeed, for as she passed through the wide open 
doors, she half turned her back on me and with a sweeping 
curtsy and a ravishing smile thanked Mr. La Force for his 
service. As we walked back to the table, Mr. La Force said to 
me courteously: 

“I heard your magnanimous offer. Sir Lionel, and it em- 
boldens me to ask a favor from you in Mr. Livingston’s behalf. 
Since his illness the offices are left entirely in my charge, and 
I am called away, unexpectedly, to be gone for two days. I 
must leave to-morrow night and cannot possibly get back be- 
fore the second night following. If you are indeed intending 
to remain in this pest-ridden city, would it be asking too much 
of you to sit in Mr. Livingston’s office from ten to three for 
those two days? It is as cool and comfortable a place as I 
think you can find in the city.” 

The proposition took my breath away. I would have declined, 
it promptly on the spot, save that it was put as a favor to 
Mr. Livingston. As it was, I temporized. 

“ You honor me,” I said with a laugh. “ I came near going 
in for a First in mathematics at Oxford, but as for books and 
accounts, I fear I know nothing about them.” 

We had reached the table and Mr. Hamilton was sitting at 
the upper end with all his guests gathered about him, con- 
venient to the bottles of fine old Madeira the negro butler was 
placing before him. Mr. Gouverneur Morris was at his right 
and Mr. Hamilton called to me to take the place between him 
and Mr. Irving. 

“What is that I hear about accounts?” he asked rather 
sharply, and I caught a keen glance, swift as lightning, di- 
rected toward Mr. La Force as he spoke. 

It flashed into my mind that if there should be anything 
not quite plain and above board in Mr. La Force’s proposal, as 
Mr. Hamilton’s suspicious glance would seem to indicate, or 
if he should have “ designs ” on me, as Miss Livingston had 
suggested, my best plan was to state his proposal openly before 


90 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


all these gentlemen, who knew the conditions so much better 
than I. So I answered: 

“ Mr. La Force asks me to take charge of Mr. Livingston's 
office for a couple of days while he is obliged to be absent." 

I thought Mr. La Force looked a little disturbed and col- 
ored slightly, but he took up my explanation imperturbably as 
he seated himself further down the table. 

“ There would be no question of accounts. It would simply 
be sitting in a cool office from ten to three with such pleasant 
reading as I might be able to furnish, so that some trustworthy 
person might appear to be in charge, and the office properly 
guarded in Mayor Livingston's and my own, unavoidable ab- 
sence. I should not have thought of proposing it to Sir Lionel 
but that he seemed anxious to do my employer a service by 
helping to nurse him, and I thought he might be doing him as 
great a service in this way and with much less peril to him- 
self." 

u Nonsense ! " began Mr. Hamilton, but Mr. Burr interposed 
suavely, 

“ I hn not sure but Mr. La Force is right. If Sir Lionel 
insists on doing Mr. Livingston a service, a few days in a 
comfortable office might be a better preparation for the perils 
of nursing than plunging into it at once so soon after a long 
sea voyage." 

My new-found friends discussed it pro and con, Mr. Irving 
siding warmly with Mr. Burr, and Mr. Hamilton and Mr. 
Morris demurring, without so much as consulting me. This 
seemed to strike Mr. Morris at last, 

“ After all, it's not our business, but Sir Lionel's, and the 
casting vote is his. How shall it be, Sir Lionel ? " 

I had been slowly coming to a decision. 

“ I will do as Mr. La Force asks, provided that, immediately 
on his return, Mr. Irving and Mr. Kemble will take me with 
them and initiate me into the mysteries of nursing." 

“ Well, Patroon?" interrogated Mr. Irving, addressing Mr. 
Kemble. 

“I'm willing, Jonathan," returned Mr. Kemble, whereupon 


THE SHADOW OP A COMING EVENT 


91 


both gentlemen turned to me and gravely gave me their hands 
upon it. 

“ Patroon,” said Mr. Irving, “ the day that Sir Lionel is 
released from office will be one of our rest days. What say 
you to taking him out for that night and the next day to 
Cockloft Hall?” 

“ Well and good,” agreed the “ Patroon ” gravely, “ and I 
will see if we can get hold of Doctor, Sinbad, Billy Taylor, the 
Supercargo and Ooromdates. Nuncle and Captain Great Heart 
I know are out of town.” 

Here was a promise of good cheer, for I knew the titles, of 
course, were nicknames. I was sure this young fellow was 
no great “ Patroon ” and “ Cockloft Hall ” had the most entic- 
ing suggestion of sport. My spirits rose steadily, for if they 
w^ere all as enchanting young fellows as the courtly “ Patroon ” 
and the gay “ Jonathan” I foresaw the promise before me of 
much good fellowship to lighten my exile. 

My affairs having been settled, the company fell naturally 
into two parts; Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Morris, Mr. Troup and 
Mr. Burr forming one, and we youngsters the other. There 
was not so much heavy drinking as I have sometimes seen at 
English dinner tables and there was more gay talk and laughter, 
more sparkling wit and polished repartee among the younger men 
than I had been accustomed to, and with which I sometimes 
found it difficult to hold my own. I attributed this brilliancy 
to the influence of the French, who, I knew, had swarmed in 
such numbers to America and had given a French tone to 
New York society, but it was Mr. Irving, and not the French- 
man, who was the leader in the gay encounter of wit, with the 
courtly Kemble as a close second. My friend Lloyd sat rather 
quiet, repressed, no doubt, by the thought of the sick father at 
home. I was constantly drawn into it, and, my spirits ris- 
ing steadily with the feeling of emulation, I did my best for 
the honors of old Oxford. The stories I told were most of them 
on the Dean of Magdalen, a character in Oxford famous for 
twisting his tongue. They would have been stale enough at 
home but I hoped they were new here. I was in the act of 


92 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


recounting how, at the vesper service at Magdalen on Show Sum 
day, the Dean offered my aunt and a young lady visiting us 
(I did not mention Peggy’s name) his seat in chapel, rising 
with a magnificent flourish and a stately — “Will you occu- 
pew my pie, ladies ? ” when, amid the roar of laughter with 
which they politely greeted my little tale, I caught a sentence 
uttered by Mr. Hamilton, his magnetic tones a little raised by 
the heat of argument. It attracted the attention of the others, 
also, and for the next ten minutes we young men were silent, 
listening, with respectful interest, to a debate between the 
“ two most brilliant men in the country,” Mr. Irving whispered 
in my ear. 

“ A Democracy is the most mischievous of all establishments,” 
were Mr. Hamilton’s words that had attracted my attention, 
“ A Eepublic the most ideal.” 

“ I do not altogether agree with you,” objected Mr. Burr 
suavely. “A Democracy is a government of the people and 
for the people, a Eepublic is sometimes an aristocracy.” 

“ Every cowherd hopes to be president in a Democracy,” ex- 
claimed Hamilton scornfully. 

“ Why not ? ” asked Burr coolly, “ if the cowherd can ac- 
complish it ? ” 

“What is the meaning of civilization, pray?” Hamilton 
rejoined more courteously, evidently recalling himself to his 
obligation as host, “ if the educated, enlightened, broad-minded, 
are not to rule?” 

“ I believe no ‘ cowherd ’ could attain to the presidency with- 
out becoming ‘ educated, enlightened and broad-minded ’ in the 
process.” 

“ I differ with you, sir. If, after the cowherd had become 
all that, by some miracle of nature or grace, he should then be 
willing to devote his superiority of mind and character to the 
benefit of mankind by assuming the responsibilities of office, 
I would be the last to object. But he is not to embellish his 
understanding for the sake of his own aggrandizement. God 
knows no true man can be happy in power, but it is a sacrifice 


THE SHADOW OP A COMING EVENT 


93 


for the good of the mass that is sometimes demanded. He 
will be the sufferer, but mankind will be the happier.” 

“ How about Bonaparte ? ” 

“ You know what I think of Bonaparte, sir,” sternly. “ But 
I do not believe him to be a greater autocrat than Jefferson, 
only our tyrant fools the world by wearing dirty old clothes 
and by being familiar with his inferiors.” 

Mr. Burr smiled. 

“I’m not sure I disagree with you entirely about Mr. Jef- 
ferson, though it may be treason in me to speak so of my 
chief.” 

“Your chief has a consummate knowledge of the limited 
understanding; he knows how to tickle it with a straw. I 
consider this Louisiana Purchase as nothing more nor less than 
a bait to the masses. Our country was large enough, God 
knows, if it is to be governed well and as a whole.” 

“ Then you think Massachusetts is right to threaten to se- 
cede because of Louisiana ? ” 

Mr. Burr spoke quickly, with a keenness of glance at Ham- 
ilton that betokened his interest in his reply. 

“ God forbid ! ” ejaculated Mr. Hamilton, his tone deepen- 
ing and his eyes glowing with earnestness. “ I pledged every 
faculty to the consummation of the Union — I will pledge my 
last vital spark to its maintenance.” 

“ Oh, I hope it will never come to that,” returned Mr. Burr 
lightly, “but sometimes I think that with this Louisiana Pur- 
chase consummated the country is big enough to hold two na- 
tions within its borders; and since the interests of the West 
are so diametrically opposed to those of the East it might not 
be a bad idea to set up a new Republic across the Mississippi.” 

“ A new Republic or a new Empire ? ” interrogated Mr. Ham- 
ilton, again with that keenly suspicious glance at Mr. Burr. 
Could it be he suspected him of any designs in that direction? 

“ Oh, a new Republic, of course,” replied Mr. Burr, with a 
slight flush, as if he understood and resented the glance. But 
here the conversation became general once more, and I turned 


94 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


to laugh at a witty jest of Mr. Irving’s, but with a feeling that 
I had, in these few minutes, gained a glimpse into American 
politics, and more than a glimpse of the characters of the two 
leading personalities in those politics. 

A few moments later Mr. Hamilton said, “ Shall we join 
the ladies ? ” And with a kindly smile directed particularly 
to me, “ I would like to show you my thirteen trees, Sir Lio- 
nel.” 

We found the ladies seated under thirteen beautiful black 
gum trees, set out, Mr. Hamilton said, to commemorate the 
thirteen original states. My eyes fell at once on Mademoiselle 
Desloge seated under one of them and holding in her arms a 
beautiful baby boy, not more than a year old, with a crop of 
golden curls tumbling all over his head and his father’s won- 
derful dark eyes. I was quite determined that I should have 
a few words of conversation with her before I left and I started 
directly towards her, but Mr. Burr was ahead of me. 

“What an adorable picture of a Madonna, Mademoiselle,” I 
overheard him say in his softest tones. 

It was exactly what I had been thinking, but nevertheless I 
regarded him as a detestable flatterer for voicing my thought, 
and I turned to Miss Livingston. 

“ This is the most beautiful spot I have ever seen. Miss Liv- 
ingston. Tell me what I am looking at, please.” 

We were standing on a green pinnacle, the land falling away 
from us on all sides. Green archways at our right and our 
left and in front of us gave us three different landscapes, each 
more beautiful, if possible, than the other. To the left was a 
narrow river winding among wooded ravines, the Haarlem, 
Miss Livingston said, and still farther to the left and a little to 
the south, the wide East River. On the right lay the majestic 
Hudson, bearing a hundred white-sailed sloops on its broad 
bosom, with the green shores and bluffs of Jersey for a back- 
ground. In front of us, ten miles away, we could catch silvery 
glimpses of the bay up which we had sailed that very morning 
— it seemed a week ago — and between, a rolling country of 
field and forest and winding roads, and blue smoke rising here 


THE SHADOW OF A COMING EVENT 


95 


and there from the chimneys of some comfortable farmhouse 
or gentleman’s country mansion. All this Miss Livingston 
pointed out and not very far away the white-pillared porch of 
a house on the bluffs above the Haarlem, which she said be- 
longed to Mr. Roger Morris, my quondam acquaintance, and 
still farther to the south and east, just where the Haarlem 
emptied into that other great river, as broad as the Hudson 
and like it dotted with white sails, the smoke from the chim- 
neys of Morrisania., Mr. Gouverneur Morris’ place. And far- 
ther still to the north a faint blue mist and a gleam of white 
that she said belonged to the Van Cortlandt Manor House, 
which I must certainly see, as it was one of the great show- 
places of Manhattan. 

I was much interested in the wonderful view and her de- 
scriptions, but not so absorbed but that I overheard Mrs. Ham- 
ilton say: 

“ Angelica, show the young people Lovers’ Lane. It will be 
very beautiful at this time of the evening.” 

There were exclamations of delighted approval from the 
young people and a stir as of arrangement for the walk. I 
saw Mr. Kemble coming toward us and I hurriedly excused 
myself to Miss Livingston and in a moment was at Miss Des- 
loge’s side. I was in time to hear Mr. Burr say, with his soft 
smile : 

“ I wonder if I might be considered one of the young people 
for a walk through Lovers’ Lane ? ” 

But before she had time to reply, I struck in boldly : 

“ Miss Desloge, may I claim you for this walk ? ” 

Almost to my surprise she looked up and said “ Yes, ” with 
that same twinkling glance, that once before had struck me as 
so familiar, and, with the Vice-president shaking his head 
reproachfully, and murmuring “ Cruel, ” we followed Mrs. 
Alston and young Irving down a steep and winding path 
through a rocky dell where the trees met over our heads, 
allowing only occasional shafts of the western sun to pierce the 
green canopy above and gild the mossy rocks below, and with 
a sparkling little stream dancing over its rocky bed beside 


96 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


us, and cool, damp odors of cedar and mint filling the evening 
air, until we came out on a green terrace just above the river, 
where we sat down in a little pavilion on the bank to watch 
the sunset, a flaming canopy of crimson and gold above the 
dark wooded shores of Jersey. We watched it until the glory 
faded, leaving only soft gleams on the shining face of the river, 
while the purple twilight settled slowly down about us, and 
brilliant fireflies, such as I had never seen before, fell in 
showers of light over the wooded bluffs behind us like Guy 
Fawkes* fireworks, and I felt that I would be quite willing to 
spend the two years of my exile in that enchanted spot with 
Miss Desloge beside me, her rich contralto tones mingling 
with the laughter and the songs of the others as a ’cello mingles 
with tinkling guitars and mandolins. 

A wide band of clear yellow still lingered over the black 
heights of J ersey. Into this daffodil sky there sailed the slender 
crescent of the new moon. “ A silver shallop on a golden sea, ” 
Mademoiselle Desloge said, and we turned to climb, rather 
silently, the rocky, winding path to the house above. 

And I, for one, was glad it was steep, since she could not 
well refuse a helping hand, even if she would. 


lx 


AN AMAZING MEETING 

N EITHER Mr. Burr nor Mr. La Force had been of our 
party in Lovers’ Lane. Mr. Burr had made his adieus 
to Mrs. Ilamilton — I imagined rather to the relief of that 
little lady — before we started, and carried off Mr. La Force 
with him to spend the night at Richmond Hill. He had left 
Mrs. Alston to the care of Mr. Irving — who, Miss Living- 
ston whispered to me, had been an unsuccessful lover when 
she was Theodosia Burr — but cautioned them against being 
out too late, since the mists rising at night from river and 
swamp, more particularly from the Lispenard Meadows, were 
regarded as peculiarly miasmatic in fever times. 

I could not but admire the elegance and ease with which 
Mr. Burr made his adieus, where, even to a stranger like my- 
self, it was evident he was not an entirely welcome guest. 
Indeed, there was something about the man that fascinated 
me in spite of my feeling that he was not wholly trustworthy. 
I had not liked his attentions to Miss Desloge — young 
enough to be his daughter — and therefore I was not sorry to 
see him go, but neither was I sorry to have him say as he said 
good-by, “We shall hope to see you at Richmond Hill, Sir 
Lionel, and very soon.” I hoped he would follow up the in- 
vitation with one more definite, for I was beginning to feel a 
keen curiosity about this slender, boyish Vice-president with 
his smiling eyes and his silver tongue. 

Mr. La Force, also, said a parting word to me. 

“ Sir Lionel, could you be at Mayor Livingston’s office at three 
o’clock to-morrow afternoon? I leave the city at five and I 
should like to put you in possession before I go.” 

I agreed to be there at three, though with some hesitation, 
7 97 


98 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


for it curtailed a little the ride I had intended to make with 
my friend Lloyd. We had arranged that I should ride with 
him as far as I could and get back for the five o’clock ferry from 
Paulus Hook. I would have to catch the twelve o’clock ferry, 
if I was to be at Mr. Livingston’s office by three, and lose five 
hours of my farewell visit with him. Yet I could easily see that 
it was quite necessary that Mr. La Force should introduce me 
to my duties and I had to remind myself vigorously that it 
was a service I was rendering my patron and friend, ill 
through his own noble devotion, and not a service to Mr. La 
Force, whom, for some reason, I could not bring myself to like. 

Mr. La Force was no doubt regarded as a handsome man. 
His dark curling hair was worn c la Bonaparte, neither pow- 
dered nor tied but cut short in the neck with one curly lock 
falling over the forehead. It was the newest fashion and I 
had already noticed a number of the New York men following 
it. Because it was French and introduced by Bonaparte, no self- 
respecting Briton would have adopted it, and I was glad to 
see that Hamilton and Morris and Irving and my friend 
Lloyd still wore their hair long enough to be neatly tied with 
a ribbon. I had to confess, however, that the style became 
Mr. La Force extremely, and set off well a shapely head, and 
since it was new and different and French, no doubt made 
him all the more attractive to the ladies. His mouth was small 
and his lips a brilliant red, and when he smiled he flashed 
two rows of very white teeth in what I regarded as a most 
offensive manner. I have never admired a small mouth in a 
man, and yet Mr. Washington Irving’s mouth was small also, 
and I had not found it offensive, for his lips were of nature’s 
pink, not art’s scarlet, and when he smiled, though his teeth 
were white, there was no effect of flashing them at one and 
his lips took on such genial curves and the eyes above them 
were so full of frank good humor that one must needs smile 
with him. 

Not so Mr. La Force’s eyes. I met him many times after that 
first day (though it was never possible that I could be on in- 
timate terms with him) yet I never discovered anything ap- 


AN AMAZING MEETING 


99 


proaching a smile in his eyes, and they had a peculiarity which 
up to that time I had never seen: the color light blue, with 
very black lashes, full and short, on the lower lid, giving them 
a most sinister effect; especially as a line of white usually 
showed below the iris and just above that pronounced black 
line of the lower lid. Poets and artists to the contrary, I 
have never found a thickly-lashed lower lid beautiful, unless, 
like Mademoiselle Desloge’s, the lashes were curling and golden 
brown in color. 

Yet I do not know why I should dwell so long on Mr. La 
Force’s eyes unless it is to explain my instinctive distrust of 
the man. No one else, that I could see, had any such feeling 
toward him, unless Mr. Hamilton’s suspicious glances when he 
first heard Mr. La Force’s proposal to me indicated distrust. 

Bourbon Prince had recovered from his voyage sufficiently 
to allow of Lloyd’s riding him and a wagon had been engaged 
to meet us at Paulus Hook to convey Caesar, Chloe and the 
luggage as far as Trenton, since, on account of the fever in 
New York, the Philadelphia stages ran only so far. The City 
Tavern livery furnished me a very good horse, and because 
Lloyd wanted to spare Bourbon Prince the heat of the 
day, and because he was eager, also, to press on as far as pos- 
sible toward home, the early dawn saw our little cavalcade 
boarding the ferry boat, a huge flat barge with a platform at 
one end for the horses, and manned by three stalwart negroes 
with long sweep oars. 

The air was fresh and cool and drenched with dew, with 
much more of the feeling of an English summer morning than 
yesterday’s had been, and as our little party was safely stowed 
away on the boat, and the long oars began to sweep the water, 
and we slowly glided from the shore, I had leisure to enjoy 
the wonderful beauty of the scene. We were crossing the 
river just above the point where it broadens into the beautiful, 
island-dotted bay, landlocked, apparently, by the smiling 
green shores of Jersey, Staten Island and Long Island. The 
white walls and dark roofs of Richmond Hill House on the 
bluffs above the river were clearly outlined against the rapidly 


100 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


brightening dawn as our boat drew out into the river, and just 
above it the morning star swam golden in a violet sky. The 
lawns and shrubberies sloped down to the water’s edge and it 
looked very lovely in the early morning light. Just as it 
looked then I was to see it again on another summer morning, 
looking like the peaceful abode of all that was good but seem- 
ing to me like the dreadful haunt of all that was evil; and it 
is an indelible picture in my memory. 

When Chloe and Caesar and the boxes were stowed away in 
the wagon waiting for us, Lloyd bade the driver make as good 
time as he could for Trenton, where he would meet them at 
the old King George Tavern. Our horses feeling fresh, we 
set off at a gallop for the village of Newark, through which we 
thundered at such a pace that foot passengers stopped to stare 
at us and heads were thrust from shop doors and house win- 
dows to see what was happening in the quiet streets. We had 
been delayed in getting Chloe and Caesar started and by the 
time we reached the village of Elizabeth, a few miles farther 
on, the sun was well up and no less hot than it had been the 
day before, and I, for one, was quite ready for a second break- 
fast and quite sure our horses would do all the better for a 
few oats, a pail of water and a little rest. But Lloyd said 
nothing about stopping until we had left behind us the vil- 
lage street, with its overhanging elms and its white houses 
comfortably set on cool shady lawns, and I wondered why. If 
he did not suggest breakfast soon I should, for I was not made 
of such stern stuff as needed no refreshment for the inner 
man, and the lagging step of my horse assured me that neither 
was he. 

But Lloyd knew what he was about. On the outskirts of 
this pretty little village of Elizabeth he drew rein under a 
wide elm that sentineled the entrance to a small park with 
some magnificent trees scattered over a smooth shaven lawn, 
and a short avenue densely shaded by drooping hemlocks and 
chestnuts leading up to a house of noble proportions. 

“ Sir Lionel,” he said, as, with the deliberation that char- 
acterized all his movements, he drew from his pocket a little 


AN AMAZING MEETING 


101 


note, “Mr. Hamilton handed me yesterday an invitation from 
the Countess Niemcewiscz to stop, on our way home, at Liberty 
Hall for rest and breakfast, or dinner, as the case might be. 
This is Liberty Hall and here is our breakfast awaiting us, I 
have no doubt.” 

“ Did the invitation include me ? ” I asked with sharp sus- 
picion. 

“No, unfortunately, for it was written and sent to Mr. Ham- 
ilton a week ago, to be delivered to me whenever I might 
happen to arrive, and. none of my friends, then, so much as 
knew of your existence; but there will be no question of the 
welcome awaiting you.” 

“ It seems to be the custom of the country,” I said, trying 
to speak coolly, but feeling a wave of anger surge within me 
at the thought that my friend had tried to entrap me into this 
breakfast party, since he had not, all this time, so much as 
mentioned Liberty Hall, to say nothing of the invitation. “ It 
seems to be a custom of the country to go as uninvited guest 
wherever a friend may happen to take you; but I am not yet 
sufficiently Americanized. I thank you for your share in the 
invitation. You will breakfast with your friends, of course, 
and I and my nag will go back to Elizabeth and find an inn that 
will give us a morsel to eat.” 

I probably was not successful in entirely disguising my 
irritation, for he seemed much troubled at my proposal to re- 
turn to Elizabeth and proceeded to argue the matter at length 
with me. I was not to be moved from my decision and we 
might have still been standing in the cool green shadow of 
that great elm, discussing the pros and cons, had not a most 
amazing thing happened. 

The entrance to the park was closed by great iron gates 
heavily spiked on top, and but a few feet beyond the gates 
the short avenue of trees leading up to the house curved in 
such a manner as to conceal the driveway. At this moment 
our heated discussion was arrested by the sound of thunder- 
ing hoofs, and around the curve flashed a horse and rider, the 
horse a superb creature, but too evidently running away. 


102 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


and the rider apparently a young girl. A moment more and 
horse and rider would be hurled against those great iron gates 
and both, probably, to their death. 

I had often bemoaned my slight and boyish figure, but my 
muscles were of steel and perhaps it was due to my size that I 
was off my horse and at the gates and with a tremendous tug 
had thrown them wide before my companion was well dis- 
mounted. Prom the great size of the horse I thought he must 
own Norman blood, but from his flaming eyes, and quivering 
nostrils and flashing hoofs I was sure there was a goodly strain 
of Arabian with the Norman. As he thundered down upon me, 
I sprang to one side and, as he flashed by me, caught his 
bridle at the throat. The brute threw up his head and snorted 
aloud with rage, flinging me from side to side much as he 
might have flung a dangling terrier, and hardly checking his 
onward rush for my swaying weight. But I held on, hoping 
to tire him, or hoping that Lloyd would come to my help, or 
hoping that he would heed his mistress’ voice speaking sooth- 
ing words in tones that tingled to my finger tips and strength- 
ened my clutch on the bridle till I believe only death itself 
could have loosened it. 

It seemed to me a long time that I was swaying from side 
to side with my agonized clutch on the great brute’s bridle, 
his hot breath scorching my face, fearing that after all I might 
not be able to save its rider from death, but no doubt it was 
less than a minute until Bourbon Prince thundered ahead of 
us and Lloyd sprang off and threw his great weight on the 
horse’s neck, and together, but not, I believe, without the help 
of those firm and commanding tones that thrilled me, we 
brought the brute to a standstill, dripping from every pore, 
every muscle quivering, every limb trembling, his eye still 
rolling wildly but recognizing, as a beast always does, that he 
is conquered and must submit. 

Not until the brute was thoroughly subdued did I lift my 
eyes, knowing well what they would meet but hardly daring 
to believe it; for had I not left the owner of that voice at Mr. 
Hamilton’s place far up in the northern end of Manhattan 


AN AMAZING MEETING 


103 


Island only late the night before? Combs and pins had flown 
to the wind in that breathless ride and around her shoulders 
fell a tawny mane of tangled curls that shone like burnished 
copper. It was a sight to dazzle any man’s eyes and it must 
have dazzled mine for, as I looked up into hers, their brown 
depths seemed to me for a moment to glow with a stronger 
feeling than gratitude as they looked down into mine. 


X 


I MAKE A FAITHFUL FRIEND 

I T was only for a moment that I met that glowing glance. 

The next she turned to Lloyd and, with a hand out- 
stretched to both, she said lightly with no trace of the emo- 
tion in her voice that I had seen in her eyes, “ I thank you, 
gentlemen. You have probably saved a life, which is always 
a good thing to do, no matter of how little worth the saving 
of it may seem.” 

She gave us no chance to protest her speech, but, putting a 
hand on Lloyd’s shoulder, with a bright blush for her boldness 
in so doing, sprang lightly to the ground. 

Then she said, “I have won my wager, but I hope no one 
will be so reckless as to ride the beast home again. I am con- 
vinced he is dangerous/’ 

“ What was the wager, Mademoiselle ? ” I asked, but before 
she could reply two men and a boy came running down the 
driveway and behind them three women, uttering loud cries as 
they ran. The one in the lead was Miss Livingston, who, see- 
ing Mademoiselle Desloge alive and well, threw herself into 
her arms and burst into tears with what seemed to me an un- 
usual show of devotion toward a hired companion who was al- 
most a stranger. I was sure her emotion bespoke a good heart 
in Miss Livingston. 

“ I hope Aunt Kitty will send the beast straight back to 
Monticello,” she ejaculated, as soon as she could control her 
speech. “What is Mr. Jefferson thinking of to send William 
such a vicious brute ! ” 

But a young lad not yet out of his teens spoke up with spirit : 
“ The horse is mine, Cousin J ane, and I will not have him 

104 


I MAKE A FAITHFUL FEIEND 


105 


sent back. I am very sure he is not vicious, he only needs a 
man to ride him.” 

At that the two older men laughed, and one of them said 
with an air of gallantry, although I am sure he only spoke the 
plain truth — 

“No man could have ridden him better than Miss Desloge. 
I am not sure that any one of us would have come off half so 
well. That was a nasty wager you made, William, and you 
owe Miss Desloge an apology.” 

“I beg your pardon, Miss Desloge; I did not believe you 
would take me up or I would never have made it. No woman, 
no matter how accomplished she is, ought to ride such a pow- 
erful beast, and, as Mr. Jefferson says, only half broken.” 

He had a manly air in making his apology that quite won 
my liking and I have no doubt won Miss Desloge’s. She 
smiled on him adorably. 

“You are quite right, Mr. Jay” (the boy blushed crimson; 
I am sure he had never been called anything but Master William 
before). “No woman of sense would do such a dare-devil thing, 
I am afraid I was vain of my horsemanship, and it serves me 
right to be mortified before you all.” 

Then everyone exclaimed at once that her horsemanship 
was wonderful and that she had no reason for mortification. 

“ I ’m sure you ought to be both proud and grateful,” said 
Miss Livingston. “ I never saw anything half so magnificent 
as you were flying down the avenue on that great beast’s back. 
And to think that you are still alive ! ” 

All this time Lloyd had been standing with his arm over 
the horse’s neck and I still clutching the bridle. Miss Liv- 
ingston’s first agitation subsiding, she had time to think of us 
and presented us to the company with many eulogiums for 
what she was pleased to call our “bravery,” which she took 
for granted, since she had not been a witness of it. The boy 
proved to be a son of Mr. John Jay, the great judge and diplo- 
mat, and grandson of the Mr. Livingston of Liberty Hall who 
had been the “war governor” of Jersey. The ladies were, 
one of them, that “ Aunt Kitty,” of whom I had heard Miss 


106 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


Livingston speak, a daughter of Governor Livingston and mar- 
ried to her cousin, a Livingston of Livingston Manor; the 
other was our hostess, the charming Countess Niemcewiscz, a 
Livingston also, but of another branch of the family, who had 
bought Liberty Hall after the death of her uncle, the Governor. 
The two gentlemen were the husbands of the two ladies, both of 
them men of elegance and fashion, as could be seen at a glance, 
but the young Polish count, friend of Kosciusko, one of the 
most delightful men I have ever met. 

There was no escaping the friendly importunities of the 
ladies, when they found that I was Lloyd’s friend and the 
“ savior of Miss Desloge,” as they put it grandiloquently. 
When the party started for the house, two men, one on each 
side, leading the big horse Saladin, as they called him, and 
Lloyd leading Bourbon Prince, I turned to look for my nag. 
The rascal had taken to his heels and a whole troop of blacks, 
big and little, having flocked down the avenue at the sound 
of the commotion, the countess sent two of them in search of 
the recreant. She called me to her and kept me by her side 
most of the way up to the house, asking me of home and family 
in such a charming and friendly fashion that it could not but 
dissipate some of the regret I felt at not being one of the 
little group behind me; of which I could easily tell Miss Des- 
loge was the center of interest, since I could hear her voice 
and laugh in merry response to every speech uttered by the 
others. 

If I were to be deprived of Miss Desloge’s society on this 
walk I would take some slight recompense by discovering how 
she and Miss Livingston had made their miraculous appear- 
ance at Liberty Hall ahead of us. 

“ Oh, they came down in the Clermont sloop early this 
morning,” said the countess in response to what I considered 
my skillfully directed inquiries. “ They took the cool of the 
day and were here by a little after seven. It’s much shorter 
by sloop than by horse. You had to ride all round the Newark 
Bay and marshes; they came straight down the river and down 
the bay and through the Kill van Kull. They surprised us al- 


I MAKE A FAITHFUL FRIEND 


107 


most before we were up. They were hungry as bears, they 
said, but they announced that you were on the way and would 
surely be here by nine, and they refused to sit down to break- 
fast until you should arrive. They timed you to a nicety. It 
is only a few minutes past nine and breakfast is ready and 
waiting.” 

“ Did they come by — by invitation ? ” I asked awkwardly, 
knowing I had no right to put a question like that to a perfect 
stranger. 

“ Oh, no, we do not wait for invitations among friends,” she 
answered. “ I should not at all wonder if they had come en- 
tirely for the sake of giving you a surprise, since they knew 
you would stop here, and Jane dearly loves a jest.” 

“ Then Mademoiselle had wanted to see us again,” I thought, 
though I knew I had no right to flatter myself, since of course 
she was at the mercy of her mistress 5 whims. 

“ In that case I do not feel so unhappy at being an un- 
invited guest, myself, since it is the custom and since I am 
not the only one,” I uttered aloud. 

“ Oh, surely not / 5 said the countess quickly. “ You know 
that your friend is more than welcome anywhere, as the son 
of his father, and your friend 5 s friend is welcome for his sake, 
even if we were not immensely fond of our English kin and 
sometime foemen, for their own sake. Then you must know, 
Sir Lionel, what they say of us here in America, that a title 
goes a long way with us.” 

Now I did not like that last speech of hers at all and I began 
to stiffen inwardly in a way we Englishmen are accused of doing 
at the least provocation, when I happened to glance up into 
her eyes. She was smiling a little and her eyes were twinkling 
roguishly and altogether she had such a charming air of gentle 
audacity that perforce I found myself smiling back and say- 
ing: 

“ Oh, yes, no doubt, if it were an earl or a marquis or a 
duke, but — only a baronet ? 55 

“ A baronet with the blood of the old Thanes in his veins 
is worth more than a duke in the estimation of some people. 


108 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


And the owner of one of the great show-places in England 
has distinction enough even if he were only a country squire.” 

I was embarrassed for a reply but there did not seem to 
be need of any. As she finished speaking she turned to Miss 
Desloge, who was now only a few feet behind us. 

“Miss Desloge, you have been in England. Have you ever 
seen Clover Combe Court?” 

Naturally I turned toward her to hear her answer and caught 
a startled glance that looked almost like fright. But she re- 
covered instantly, and without any apparent hesitation, she 
answered : 

“ I believe I have seen it — once.” 

“ Don’t you think it the most beautiful place in all 
England ? ” 

“ It was so long ago I can hardly remember,” she answered 
carelessly. “ I believe it has that reputation.” 

Now I had not much liked the countess’ speech about it 
being one of the great show-places of England. I had some- 
times regretted that it was a show-place at all; nevertheless, I 
was proud of it, I suppose, and Miss Desloge’s indifference 
nettled me. 

“I have no doubt that the great show-places of France are 
much finer than anything we have in England,” I said quickly. 

“ I don’t know England very well ; I have not been there 
since I was a child,” she answered quietly, “but certainly we 
have some very beautiful places in France.” 

I thought I saw a chance to drop back by Miss Desloge, for 
I had heard the countess speaking to Lloyd and saw him 
leading Bourbon Prince nearer her. 

“You never told me you had been in England, Miss 
Desloge,” I said reproachfully. “ You must have been there a 
long time to learn to speak English so perfectly as you do.” 

“ Oh, I had an English governess when I was a child,” she 
answered with a slight blush. 

If Mademoiselle had an English governess, I argued men- 
tally, that in itself bespeaks the social station I was sure she 
was born to. Somehow my spirits brightened at the thought 


I MAKE A FAITHFUL FRIEND 


109 


and we fell into an easy strain of banter, such as I might have 
indulged in with Miss Livingston, and that was very dif- 
ferent from the interchange of a few set phrases that, since 
our arrival in America, had been the extent of our communi- 
cations. 

Now I knew very well why my spirits had lightened. After 
our return from the Grange the night before, I had sat up 
late writing a letter to my father to be sent back by Captain 
Skinner on his return voyage. In it I had mentioned that Mr. 
Livingston was ill with a fever prevalent in the city, of which 
I made light, but I had said nothing of my intention to de- 
vote myself to the nursing of the fever patients, and I had 
said nothing of my acquaintance with Miss Desloge. There 
is no use in worrying my father at this distance, I said to 
myself, and I knew well he would worry greatly if he thought 
me exposed to the fever, and perhaps even more if he thought 
me exposed once more to the danger of falling in love with a 
beautiful young woman beneath me in station. Moreover, I 
was fully determined, for my father’s sake, that I would not 
fall in love with her. I remembered well what he had said — 
“ Your ancestors have always married women of equal or nobler 
birth, and women of every grace of character and of all the 
virtues.” 

I had said to him only one word of Peggy in my letter, but 
in saying it I had bound myself by a promise that I knew I 
must always hold sacred. “ The captain delivered to me the 
two letters entrusted to him by you,” I wrote. “It was a 
bitter draught but it did its work. It cleansed me of my 
folly, and now I never want to hear her name again; and I 
promise you the next time I fall in love it shall be with some 
one you can approve, and I will make no proposals of marriage 
to anyone until you shall give me leave.” 

Now I had not the slightest intention of falling in love with 
Miss Desloge, but nevertheless the. fact that I thought I had 
discovered that she was of gentle blood, as good as my own, 
perhaps, gave me a sensible lightening of the heart, and a free- 
dom in my speech that I had not felt before. 


110 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“Will you tell me, Miss Desloge,” I asked her, when I had 
contrived to fall a little back of the others and so have her to 
myself, “how you and Miss Livingston happened to come to 
Liberty Hall this morning ? ” 

“ I don’t know why you should ask or I should answer a 
question of that kind, Sir Lionel,” she replied severely. “ Miss 
Livingston doubtless feels at liberty to visit her friends and 
kinsmen whenever the inclination takes her.” 

“ I stand rebuked and I beg your pardon. I see that you 
esteem me a meddlesome Paul Pry.” 

Then she relented. 

“ Oh,” with a twinkling smile, “ not quite that, and I do not 
mind telling you, nor do I believe Miss Livingston would mind, 
that last night, after you had left the Grange, she proposed 
that we take an early ride on her sloop and surprise you at 
Liberty Hall, where she knew you were to stop for breakfast. 
I think she thought it would be a good jest and she counted 
on enjoying your startled looks when you should first meet us, 
and then, I spoiled it all by my foolhardy venture on Saladin. 
I am afraid she was greatly disappointed, for I think Miss 
Livingston planned it for the sole purpose of enjoying the 
surprise of the young gentleman from England and the pleasure 
of meeting him once more.” 

“And Miss Desloge?” I asked, caring little for Miss Liv- 
ingston’s motives in the matter, but much for hers. “Was 
it the young gentleman from England or from America for 
whom she braved such an early morning ride ? ” 

“ Neither, my Lord Duke,” she replied with a mocking half 
curtsy. I was startled for the moment. How could she know 
that I was my uncle’s heir ? 

She laughed. 

“ Eorgive me, Sir Lionel, if I was impertinent, but you said 
that with such a grand air, it was worthy of a duke, at least.” 
Then she added soberly : “ But you must know it is not for 

me to plan or to express pleasure at or disapprobation of Miss 
Livingston’s whims. I am simply here to follow her lead, and 


I MAKE A FAITHFUL FEIEND 


111 


if she does not lead me into either danger or folly I ought to 
be grateful.” 

Her tone stirred me to the quick. I could see that she was 
not used to service and that the yoke galled her. I felt my- 
self moved by a dull anger. Miss Livingston was all very well, 
but who was she to have at the mercy of her caprices such a 
magnificent creature as Miss Desloge! “ Worthy to grace a 
ducal coronet,” I said to myself, and blushed at the thought. 

As if Miss Livingston had penetrated my feeling and wished 
to irritate me still more, at this moment she called imperiously : 

“ Come hither, Mademoiselle Desloge ! ” 

And when Mademoiselle obeyed her summons meekly, she 
whispered in her ear and sent her off to the house on some 
trivial errand as she would have sent any menial. 

It was no longer a dull anger that stirred me. My blood 
boiled. And it appeased me not at all that Miss Livingston 
su mm oned me to her side and used all her arts in trying to 
soothe and amuse me: Perhaps if I had not been so angry 
I might have been flattered, for it certainly looked as if Miss 
Livingston had sent Miss Desloge to the house to secure me for 
herself. I have no doubt my brow was “ a black thundercloud ” 
and my eyes “ smoldering flame,” for that is how the Ameri- 
can has described me to myself when I am angry and trying to 
repress the ebullition of my anger. 

Fortunately for my reputation, perhaps, we had now reached 
the house, a noble mansion as houses go in America, with a 
broad shady porch over the entrance. Our hostess sent Lloyd 
and me up-stairs to our rooms in charge of a black body- 
servant. 

“ I give you ten minutes, sirs, to make a breakfast toilet, 
and not one minute longer,” she said with pretty imperiousness. 
“ If you are not down by that time we shall begin without you, 
for breakfast has been waiting so long I am sure it is utterly 
spoiled and our two young ladies are famishing.” 

I noticed then, and I have often noticed since in America, 
that the ladies have a little air in talking to men not quite 


112 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


like ours at home. It is as if they were queens giving orders 
to their vassals, but they do it so prettily and so sweetly that 
the men rush to obey them, and I believe I rather liked it. 

At any rate I liked it in the countess and I hastened to 
obey her with a cleared brow. Whether by accident or inten- 
tion I found myself seated by Mademoiselle Desloge at break- 
fast and opposite me was the young owner of Saladin. The 
massive round table would have seated a dozen as easily as it 
seated the nine who sat around it. All the windows were open 
to catch every breath of the light summer breeze stirring the 
branches of the lindens and maples that shaded them. The 
table was loaded with delicacies, many of them of a nature 
I had never seen before, and, to a man who had been as 
ravenously hungry as I had thought myself so short a while 
before, it ought to have been a pleasant hour indeed that we 
lingered around that generous board, bright with snowy damask 
and shining silver and a great bowl of garden flowers making a 
spot of glowing color in the center of the table. Perhaps it 
was, and yet something had gone to my head in such fashion 
that it was all an indistinct blur of foolish words and light 
laughter; of women looking cool and dainty in pretty muslin 
frocks ; of big handsome men, beside whom I felt sure I looked 
small and dark and insignificant ; of deft service by black boys, 
wearing white liveries and white muslin turbans, and bearing 
relays of smoking viands from a distant kitchen; of the fra- 
grance in my nostrils and the flavor on my palate of such 
coffee as I had never tasted in old England; of scarcely know- 
ing what I ate or drank at all, or what I said, or how I said 
it, until I was suddenly brought to a consciousness of time and 
place by a queer look on the face of young Master Jay sitting 
opposite me. He was white with anger> or some other emotion, 
and as I looked up and caught his eye, he bent forward and 
said in a low tone of restrained fury: 

66 A word with you after breakfast, if you please, Sir Lionel/’ 

I stared at him a moment before I comprehended his mean- 
ing and then I bowed and turned again to Mademoiselle. I 
think she had heard the words, but did not understand them, 


I MAKE A FAITHFUL FRIEND 


113 


and no one else seemed to hear. Was the boy mad? I won- 
dered. A lad hardly half way through his teens and jealous — 
for that is what it looked like — and of a young woman he had 
never laid eyes on scarce two hours before? Had my eyes and 
voice betrayed me in talking to Mademoiselle ? Then I must 
be more circumspect, for what the lad had noticed and resented, 
others might observe also. 

One of the white-turbaned boys brought in a message to the 
countess at this moment, which he whispered in her ear. 

“ How provoking ! ” she exclaimed. “ Tell J ulius Caesar and 
George Washington to saddle a couple of fast horses immedi- 
ately and scour the country in every direction.” 

She turned to me and explained that the two negroes had 
been able to find no trace of my lost horse but she had sent 
them off again better equipped to overtake and capture the run- 
away. In the meantime I would be forced to a longer stay 
than I had at first intended, which she courteously hoped would 
give me as much pleasure as it gave her. 

It did give me much pleasure for a moment — the thought 
that I might linger at Mademoiselle’s side — but only for a 
moment. The remembrance of my engagement with Mr. La 
Force returned and I knew that I must rather cut my stay short 
than prolong it, since I must foot it in to the little village 
of Elizabeth and there hunt up a horse to carry me back to 
the city — all of which would cause delay and endanger my 
losing the twelve o’clock ferry. 

When I explained this to the countess she would not listen 
to my hunting up a horse at Elizabeth. I should have one 
from her own stables, of course, to be sent back by the messenger 
who should bring my truant nag to the City Tavern. She was 
so insistent in her hospitable offer that there was nothing to do 
but yield with a good grace; and there flashed into my mind 
a method by which I might render a service in accepting her 
courtesy. 

I had entirely forgotten, for the moment. Master William’s 
black looks or I would not have blurted out my proposal so 
bluntly. 

8 


114 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


" Countess/' I said, “ at home it has been my pastime to 
tame and train unruly colts. Will you lend me Saladin? I 
believe I could send him back to you in a few days with his 
fine spirit unbroken, but ready to submit to the control of the 
gentlest hand." 

“ Oh, would you dare ? William's Aunt Kitty and I would 
be so glad ! " she began. “ We are not willing that he should 
ride Saladin, neither do we like — " 

“ Aunt Marian ! " Master William interrupted, in a white 
heat, in which courtesy to his aunts and to a stranger were 
alike forgotten, “ Saladin is mine, if you please, Madam, and 
Sir Lionel and I will discuss the matter of my lending him 
after breakfast." 

"With pleasure, Mr. Jay," I said somewhat sternly, for the 
boy's tantrums were growing unbearable, “ and perhaps. Countess, 
you and Mrs. Livingston will permit us to retire and discuss 
it now, since I find I must be thinking of my return jour- 
ney." 

"Very well," she answered, glancing curiously at William, 
and no doubt wondering at his excitement, “ but please go out 
to the stable first and take another look at Saladin. I do not 
want you to ride him unless you are certain he is safe. I 
should not like to be responsible to your father for a broken 
head or even a broken limb, Sir Lionel." 

And thus it was that I came into possession, for the length 
of my stay in America, of the most perfect horse I have ever 
had the good fortune to bestride. When I looked at him again 
and noted his fine eye, his small, pointed ears, his breadth of 
girth and delicately-tapering limbs, and the fine tracery of 
veins showing through his burnished coat, my soul coveted 
him and I determined upon the spot that I would speak Master 
William fair as long as he would let me, remembering always 
that he was but a boy and must be treated with the courtesy 
due a boy from an older man. And that if I could bring any 
arts to bear to induce the boy to lend me his horse, I should 
not hesitate to use them, since it would be only for a few days 
and I would be rendering him a real Service in taming the 


I MAKE A FAITHFUL FRIEND 


115 


brute, for in his present condition he was in no wise safe for 
any but the most skillful rider. 

So seeing that the boy, now that we were alone together, 
was red and confused, hardly knowing how to begin what he 
was yet determined to say, I spoke to him with great apparent 
respect and deference. 

“Mr. Jay,” I said, “you had something you wished to say 
to me and it would seem from your manner that I have of- 
fended you. I pray you to believe that no offense has been 
intended. Nothing could have been further from my thought 
and desire than to give offense to a young gentleman of Liberty 
Hall, where I have been most courteously treated.” 

I could see him flush with pleasure at my deferential ad- 
dress, but he did not think it quite dignified, I suppose, to be 
too easily mollified. 

“ Sir,” he said, “ it seems to me you have treated with undue 
lightness a young lady who is under the protection of my 
aunt’s roof and therefore under my protection. Your man- 
ner shows entirely too great a degree of familiarity to be used 
toward a strange young lady.” 

“ Do you mean Mademoiselle Desloge ? ” I asked, secretly 
amused at the grandiloquence of the boy, but also rather pleased 
with his gallant protection of demoiselles. “ I greatly dep- 
recate anything which may have seemed like undue familiarity 
in my manner toward Miss Desloge. I feel for her only respect- 
ful admiration and reverence. I think, sir, it must be that 
in an acquaintance of five weeks on shipboard one grows to 
have the feeling of long friendship, and perhaps that is the 
excuse for an appearance of familiarity that is not intentional.” 

“ An acquaintance of five weeks ! ” exclaimed the boy, greatly 
astonished. “I thought, sir, you had met her this morning 
for the first time. I beg your pardon, Sir Lionel, if I have 
seemed unduly captious.” 

“ You do not need to beg my pardon, Mr. Jay,” I answered 
gravely. “ I respect the impulse that prompted your resent- 
ment toward me. It must ever be with us men noblesse oblige, 
sir, where the ladies are concerned.” 


116 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


If I was partly in jest in the gravity of my utterance, I 
was also partly in earnest, for I liked the spirit of the lad, and 
when I felt his hand in mine I gave it as hearty a grasp as if 
it were the hand of an old friend of mine own age. The lad 
was won. 

“Take Saladin, Sir Lionel,” he exclaimed grandly. “Do 
with him what you please and keep him as long as you like. 
He is yours till you care to return him.” 

I had no idea of taking the generous youth at his word, but 
circumstances developed later that made Saladin virtually mine, 
as I said before, for my stay in America. 

Now, when two sturdy negro grooms, trembling, I believe, in 
every limb, brought out the magnificent creature whose eye still 
glowed with lambent flame, I spent a good ten minutes of the 
few I had to spare in caressing the beautiful beast, stroking his 
white nose, and making him look me squarely in the eye, patting 
his quivering flank, and above all, getting him used to the* 
sound of my voice, every tone of which I made evident to hist 
wise ears was thoroughly friendly. 

When at last I thought he was somewhat used to me I 
vaulted into the saddle, but at that the beast lost his head 
again, snorting with terror, pitching, rearing, plunging, fling- 
ing the two men, who clung desperately to his bit, from side to 
side with the tossing of his powerful head and neck. I could 
see the eyes of the black men rolling with terror, and William, 
forgetting for the moment his dignity, implored me to get off 
before I should be killed. 

But the beast was not vicious, only beside himself with terror, 
and as soon as I felt that my seat was assured, I called to the 
grooms to let him go. Like an arrow shot from the bow he 
sprang through the stable doors, tore down the road to the 
house, swept like the wind around it to the front, where the 
whole party came running out on to the porch, silent, lest any 
word add to the beast’s terror; then straight off like a great 
swift-winged bird down the driveway, toward that iron-spiked 
gate at the entrance. I had my hands full and my mind also, 
in my vain efforts to control the beast, but I yet had time to 



H Fine ! ” he shouted as we swept by him 









I MAKE A FAITHFUL FRIEND 117 

note Mademoiselle Desloge, wide-eyed, pale as any wraith, and 
the big American, eyes glowing, eager, alert. I was not sure 
whether those great gates were open; I had stupidly forgotten 
to see that they were before getting on Saladin’s back, but 
I had hardly had time to regret my stupidity when I caught 
sight of a road curving to the left, and straining every nerve 
and muscle, by pressure of knee and bridle and wrist, I 
swerved him into the left-hand course. Then I gave him free 
rein again and we plunged madly on, only, now that I saw that he 
could by mighty stress be guided, I no longer felt any fear of 
the result and began to enjoy the wild ride. 

To my dismay the road continued to curve to the left and 
in a few moments I was once more flashing by the house and 
the excited group on the porch, which had changed a little — 
the American was no longer there and young Jay had just come 
running up from the stables and joined them. Once more 
Saladin dashed down the avenue toward the gates. Should I 
turn him again to the left? It was too spectacular; it was 
absurd! Was I to make an endless round, down the avenue, 
up the curving road, past the house and down again, till 
Saladin was tired out and I had become a laughing stock to 
my friends? Rather run the risk of being able to stop him 
should the gates be shut. I let him go, down the avenue, and 
at that moment the gates came in sight. They were wide open 
and beside them stood the big American. 

“Fine!” he shouted as we swept by him. “YouTl have 
him, in about fifteen minutes ! ” 

For ten minutes, straight away I let him have his head, and 
the wind was no swifter or freer than Saladin in his flight. 
It was a joy to be flying through the air on the back of such a 
magnificent creature. All the winds of Arabia were in his 
ringing hoofs, all the strength and endurance of Normandy 
in his powerful muscles, stretching rhythmically beneath me. 

At the end of ten minutes I began to bear gently on his 
bridle and speak to him friendly words of soothing, and at the 
end of five minutes more I found I could turn him with ease 
into a cross road which I believed must lead back toward the 


118 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


house, and sure enough, by a little longer detour, it brought 
us once more to the open gates. 

We were still skimming through the air like a bird on the 
wing, but Saladin was moving quietly and I felt sure I could 
stop him at a word. Once more we flashed up to the door, and 
at the sound of ringing hoofs out they all rushed again, with 
young William and Lloyd in the lead, and Mademoiselle linger- 
ing in the rear. At my check on his bridle and at my word 
Saladin stopped still, as I had believed he would, and I sprang 
from the saddle and stood at his head lest he be frightened 
at the clamor of excited voices welcoming me back to safety. 

Oh, he was a beauty to look upon ! Flecked with foam, eyes 
still flashing fire, muscles quivering, and yet standing as stead- 
fast as any soldier at his post. Lloyd came down and threw 
his arm over the splendid creature’s neck, and for one moment 
I felt a spasm of jealousy that Mademoiselle should see what 
a splendid picture they made, horse and man both so magnifi- 
cent, like some grand St. George and his charger. 

But then Mademoiselle herself came down from the high 
stoop and stood beside me and stroked Saladin’s pretty white 
nose with her little hand and called him “ Good fellow, fine 
fellow ! ” until he began to understand it, and to like her soft 
touch and soft voice and rub his nose gently against her arm, 
and then I knew my beauty was tamed. 

They were all loud in their praises of my horsemanship, 
and Master William was loudest of all. “ Wonderful ! ” they 
called it, and many other extravagant words they used. But 
Mademoiselle, standing by my side, and speaking caressing 
words in Saladin’s ear, his beautiful head bent knowingly to- 
ward her to hear them, had a few half-whispered words for my 
ear alone: 

"It was splendid! I have never seen anything so magni- 
ficent. I would not have missed seeing it for worlds, but not 
for ten thousand worlds would I be willing to look upon it 
again.” 

And I, feeling suddenly and wonderfully elated at the words 


I MAKE A FAITHFUL FKIEND 


119 


of Miss Livingston’s French “ companion/’ could not resist 
looking straight into her eyes and asking boldly : 

“ Why not?” 

To which daring question I received, as I deserved, no an- 
swer. 


XI 


I ENTER INTO THE SHADOW 

M ADEMOISELLE, at my bold question, had turned away 
with her head lifted and walked back into the house. 
I was ashamed, but I was also a little angry, and I hastened 
to make my adieux to Mrs. Livingston. To her remonstrance at 
my leaving so soon I answered that I had already delayed be- 
yond my time and if I reached the ferry by twelve o’clock it 
would be by grace of Saladin’s fleetness. 

“ I wish I could go with Sir Lionel, Aunt Kitty,” said 
Master William, his eyes fixed wistfully on the horse. 

“ Into that fever-stricken city ! Never ! ” exclaimed his aunt 
hastily, and then she added, as much I believe to console the 
boy as out of courtesy to me, “ but we hope to have Sir Lionel 
with us often ; perhaps he will bring Saladin back himself.” 

That I said I would gladly do, and Mademoiselle not appear- 
ing again to give me a chance for a last word of apology — or 
reproach, I was not quite sure which it would be — my fare- 
wells were soon spoken. My American friend was to remain 
through the hot noon hour at Liberty Hall for the sake of 
Bourbon Prince, but he accompanied me a little way on my 
journey to impress upon me once more that as soon as he 
found that his father was well enough, and affairs at home in a 
sufficiently cheerful state, he should expect a visit from me. On 
no other condition, he said earnestly, would he be at all willing 
to part with me now, and I was only too glad that I was to 
meet him again. 

Although only a year or two older than I, he had always 
seemed to me much the elder, perhaps because of his great size, 
or perhaps from a certain gravity of demeanor, unusual in so 
young a man. I sometimes thought that it was because we 

120 


I ENTER INTO THE SHADOW 


121 


were so unlike in size, in looks, in character and in tempera- 
ment, that I found myself so strongly drawn to him. Now 
when he spoke a few generous words in praise of my horseman- 
ship and again in strong approbation of my course in going 
back to nurse the fever-stricken, I felt myself flush with pleas- 
ure much as a boy might, at the approval of an older man 
whom he greatly admired. 

Saladin was ambling quietly along by the side of Bourbon 
Prince quite as if they were old friends or as if he were imi- 
tating Bourbon’s good behavior. Young horses are much like 
young men, and a good example is a good thing for them. Sala- 
din learned much from Bourbon Prince in that short ride. 

When I had said good-by to my friend, and Saladin, no 
doubt, had said good-by to Bourbon, I pressed on through the 
hot noon-day to the ferry, glad enough that I had so fleet a 
horse, or I would never have made it, and, irksome as my en- 
gagement seemed to me, and little as I liked the man with 
whom it was to be kept, for those very reasons I would have 
been exceedingly sorry to fail in the keeping of it. 

I had expected to have trouble with Saladin at the ferry 
in getting him aboard, and in keeping him there, and he did 
not disappoint me. It was a bad quarter of an hour for the 
ferryman and his three oarsmen, as well as for myself, before 
we got him sufficiently quieted down for a start. I stood at 
his head and talked to him all the way over and, since I had 
already discovered that he was of keen intelligence, that a les- 
son once learned was well learned, I believed that I would 
never have the same trouble again in getting him aboard a boat. 

Three o’clock found me at the mayor’s office in that Fed- 
eral building my black guide of the day before had pointed 
out to me as the one where Washington was inaugurated as 
first President. It was now used as a City Hall, and I en- 
tered its doors with a feeling of veneration that amounted 
almost to awe as I thought of him who so short a time before 
had trod those corridors. 

Mingled with that sensation was a strong shrinking from the 
task I was about to engage in. Had I been able to see what 


1 22 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


trouble and distress my entering those doors was to bring upon 
me I could not have felt a greater shrinking than I felt as my 
hand lifted the massive brass knocker and read over the door 
the simple inscription, “ Office of the Mayor of the City of 
New York." 

The fall of the heavy knocker waked the echoes in those de- 
serted halls, but scarcely had the echoes died away, when Mr. 
La Force himself opened the door and stood before me with a 
smile intended, no doubt, to be cordial. 

“Come in, Sir Lionel," he said with impressement. “You 
are promptness itself, and I cannot half express to you under 
what obligations you are putting both Mr. Livingston and 
myself by your ready proffer of aid in my dilemma." 

I was glad he brought in Mr. Livingston's name, for the 
man's voice rang so false to me, and his glittering smile with its 
flash of white teeth and dull cold eyes above them, struck 
me as so insincere, that but for that name, the name of a man 
whom I had begun to idealize as a hero, I would have been 
ready to withdraw the “proffer" which I had never made; 
since in place of proffering, I had yielded a rather unwilling 
assent to his petition for aid. 

But no doubt I was doing him an injustice. Every man 
could not have the frank, trust-inspiring countenance of my 
great-hearted friend from whom I had just parted. Perhaps 
it was only a difference of nationality which I could not fully 
comprehend; perhaps it was the inheritance, in the Anglo- 
Saxon, of many generations of national antipathy to the Gaul. 

At any rate I could see at a glance that every arrangement 
had been made for my comfort. When I had taken my seat 
in a luxurious chair, indicated to me by Mr. La Force, I found 
at my elbow a little stand on which were arranged glasses, a 
decanter of port and another of Madeira, both glowing mellow 
through the clear crystal, a jar of cigars, a pipe, a bag of cut 
tobacco and a curiously inlaid box of finest Melton. Eeady 
to my hand, also, was a little pile of books, some of them old 
favorites of mine from the pen of Mrs. Radcliffe and Mr. Rich- 
ardson, but one, at least, by an author entirely unknown to me, 


I ENTER INTO THE SHADOW 


123 


an American, Mr. Brown by name, whose story “ Wieland,” my 
host assured me, was well worth reading. 

“ These are the arrangements I have made for your com- 
fort during your two days of incarceration,” said my host, in- 
dicating with a wave of his hand the books, wine and tobacco. 
“ I hope when I meet you again you will be able to tell me 
that they have been successful. You can see for yourself that 
our windows face Broad Street, and you can feel for yourself 
the cool breeze that always comes up that street, straight from 
the bay.” 

The windows were wide open and through them was sweep- 
ing at that moment a miniature gale from the south, impreg- 
nated with the salt air of the sea. I could not but acknowl- 
edge to myself and to my host that what he had said of the 
mayor’s office was true — I had found no place since reaching 
New York so delightfully cool. 

Then Mr. La Force insisted that before introducing me to 
the duties of my new office I should join him in a biscuit and 
a glass of port, very old port, he said, brought over from his 
uncle’s cellars in France. 

I was quite ready for the glass of wine, since I was still 
somewhat exhausted from the heat, but to part of his speech I 
objected. 

“ Duties ! ” I exclaimed, “ I thought there were to be no 
duties; that I was to sit here and read for a few hours each 
day merely to show any passer-by that there was someone in 
the office.” 

“ You are quite right, Sir Lionel,” he agreed, with his 
artificial smile that I had begun to detest; “ there are no duties 
that could be called such, but it is just possible that one or 
two people whom I will name to you, and describe, will call 
for the payment of sums due them from the city, and I will 
have to show you where the money is kept and give you a state- 
ment of the amount on hand.” 

The blood rushed to my face. It had not entered into my 
thought that I would have anything to do with money, and 
paying city officials seemed to me like the smallest kind of 


124 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


clerk’s work. I have no doubt I was unduly sensitive, but I 
answered haughtily: 

“ My breeding as an English gentleman, Mr. La Force, has 
not qualified me for a clerk’s duties, and I must decline to 
act as such in your absence.” 

I could discover a dull red mounting slowly into the sallow 
cheek of the Frenchman, and with cause, I had to confess, but 
he hastened to reply very affably: 

“I beg your pardon, Sir Lionel, I had no idea of asking 
you to act as a clerk. There may be a number of people pre- 
senting bills — though I hope you will not be often disturbed. 
To all such you need only say that I will be absent until 
the second day after to-morrow; that if they will call then I 
will see them. The two of whom I spoke are old pensioners, 
very faithful in their day, but feeble and worn-out now, and 
dependent upon the little pittance they receive at this office 
for their daily bread. They may not come either to-morrow 
or next day, but, if they should, I would not like them to be 
disappointed. Would you mind, in that case, handing them 
their little pensions? They will be enclosed in envelopes, in- 
scribed with their names.” 

This put an entirely different aspect on the transaction: it 
was a deed of charity I was to execute, and not the performance 
of a clerk’s duties. It also showed Mr. La Force in a more 
amiable light than I had hitherto regarded him, and I hastened 
to assure him that I should not mind it at all. I should, in- 
deed, find only pleasure in such a commission. 

He thanked me, over exuberantly, I thought, and then rose 
with a careless air of doing the only thing possible under the 
circumstances. 

“ Step with me into the inner office a moment, if you 
please, then, Sir Lionel,” he begged, politely, “ and I will show 
you the location of the envelopes and the other money in the 
vaults.” 

I had risen at his first motion, ready to accompany him, 
but at the word “ money ” I drew back. 


I ENTER INTO THE SHADOW 


125 


“ Is that necessary, Mr. La Force? I much prefer to know 
nothing about the money in the office.” 

“ Yes, I think it necessary,” he said gravely, but also very 
gently, as if he sympathized with my scruples. “In case of 
an emergency arising, which I do not anticipate, but for which 
it is well to be prepared, it would be quite necessary to have 
someone who knew the money’s location and how to get at it. 
Unfortunately, of our three clerks, one is ill and the other 
two are on their vacations ; there will be no one about the build- 
ing but the janitor, who will call upon you at intervals to 
furnish you with fresh water and anything else you may need, 
and whom you can call, when you want him, by pulling the 
bell rope.” 

His explanation only made the matter appear worse to me. 

“ No one about the building ! ” I exclaimed angrily. “ Do 
you mean to say I alone am to be held responsible for the 
safety of the city’s money? What is J ;o hinder an organized 
band of robbers, whose business it is to keep informed of such 
a state of affairs, from coming into the office, overpowering me, 
and helping themselves.” 

Mr. La Force smiled, a little superciliously, I thought. 

“We have no ‘ organized bands of robbers’ in this new 
country. Sir Lionel, but, of course, ” with a sneer ever so 
slight, but which I could not endure, “if Sir Lionel has fears 
for his personal safety I will try to find someone else to do 
Mr. Livingston this service, though I fear the hour is late. ” 

The wretch knew that I was but a boy and a boy of so haughty 
a spirit as could ill brook his insinuations. 

“ Lead on, Mr. La Force, ” I said grimly, “ though it still 
seems to me a very unusual and extraordinary proceeding to 
entrust the safety of the city’s moneys to one man, unarmed 
and a stranger at that. But as to fears — I do not know them.” 

Mr. La Force was all suave compliance once more. 

“Forgive me. Sir Lionel. I should have known better than 
to make such imputations against a British nobleman of your 
standing, and, indeed, I did not intend to make them. It was 


126 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


a slip in the form of speech. I must have intended to say 
{ scruples'; I could never associate you with an idea of fear." 

I accepted his apology, as I needs must, and though I did 
not like the business at all, I went with him into the inner 
office, where he showed me a secret drawer in which he kept 
the keys to the vault, three in number, opening an outer door, 
an inner door and a second inner door respectively. The last 
door disclosed a deep closet with many drawers and compart- 
ments. He opened only four of these — in one lay pieces of 
gold and on the top of them a paper with the amount of 
gold in the drawer written upon it; in another lay bank notes 
with a similar piece of paper, and in a third, silver done up 
in dollar and ten-dollar packages. The fourth drawer held, 
among other papers, the two envelopes to be given to the two 
pensioners if they called. 

I cannot describe how intensely distasteful this whole bus- 
iness was to me. I hardly glanced at the money or listened to 
him when he named the amount in each drawer, and I was in 
a great hurry to have the inspection over and done with. So, 
to do him justice, did he seem to be. But, just as he was about 
closing the last drawer with the quick turn of the lock that I 
had noted, as seeming to indicate either impatience or nervous- 
ness of some kind, I stopped him. An idea had flashed into 
my head. 

“Mr. La Force," I said, “one moment, if you please. If 
you will allow me I will take those two envelopes and keep 
them in my own possession, then I will probably not be obliged 
to open the vault in your absence." 

He demurred at first, and I think as much as he dared. 
“ They were much safer in the vault. It was giving me un- 
necessary trouble and responsibility." 

But I did not attempt to disguise my displeasure at his hes- 
itation. 

“ You cannot think, sir," I said, and I have no doubt I 
spoke arrogantly, for the man began to seem to me like a cur. 
“You cannot think I could not be responsible for so small a 
sum. Write the amount on each envelope and if I lose them 


I ENTEE INTO THE SHADOW 127 

I will replace them, but I will not open that vault in your ab- 
sence.” 

He complied, finally, but with a very poor grace, and made 
a great point once more of showing me the secret of the hidden 
drawer where the keys to the vault were kept, and would have 
me attempt the manipulation of it myself that I might be sure 
to know how to open it if I should need the keys, but this I 
flatly refused to do. 

“ I shall not need them,” I said curtly, “ and if anyone 
comes who wants money I hope I shall have forgotten how to 
open the secret drawer, so that I may be able to tell them with 
a clear conscience that I cannot enter the vault.” 

Mr. La Force smiled, a little more perfunctorily than usual, 
if that were possible, and having now evidently no desire to 
detain me, and I being in haste to be gone, he politely showed 
me the door with a reminder, 66 On the morrow at ten ! ” and 
with effusive thanks for my kindness. 

Saladin was waiting for me at the pavement, held by a 
groom from the City Tavern who had accompanied me to the 
Federal Hall. I had found a note awaiting me at the inn 
on my return from Liberty Hall inviting me to dinner at 
Eichmond Hill at half past four — the Vice-president’s dinner 
hour was a half hour later than Mr. Hamilton’s, indicating, I 
suppose, a greater degree of ceremony, as befitted the Vice-pres- 
ident of the nation. 

Eichmond Hill was not so far away but that Saladin’s winged 
feet would carry me there in half an hour. I had donned 
black satin and point lace before making my call on Mr. La 
Force, so that I was ready for dinner and had an hour at my 
disposal. I would ride on beyond Eichmond Hill to the pretty 
village of Greenwich, and farther still if Saladin should prove 
fleet enough, and perhaps, with his great strides and leaps 
through the air, I could shake off the memory of that distasteful 
visit. Saladin was my good angel and by the time I had 
reached Eichmond Hill, a much statelier mansion and a nobler 
park than the Grange, I was once more in the equable frame 
of mind befitting a dinner guest. And by the time I had spent 


128 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


the evening with my wonderful and gracious hostess, and the 
fascinating Vice-president, under the spell of whose magnetic 
voice and winning ways I was rapidly falling (though I found 
no one among the guests to take the place of the clever young 
Irving, the vivacious Miss Livingston, and — Miss Desloge) by 
the time the evening was over and I was flying through the dew- 
drenched air on Saladin's back, the stars throbbing and blazing 
above me as I had never seen them throb and blaze in our misty 
English sky, I had forgotten Mr. La Force with his hateful 
smile and his eyes with their white-rimmed pupils and black- 
lashed lower lids, which had begun to haunt me like the eyes of 
some evil beast of prey. 


XII 


THE GREEN MOREEN CHAMBER 

I CONCLUDED that my distaste for the service that I had 
bound myself to in the mayor’s office, and my worry as to 
its results, were both needless, when, at the end of the two days, 
promptly at three, Mr. La Force returned and I delivered over 
the office to his care, together with the two envelopes, which 
had not been called for. 

For absolutely nothing had happened in those two days. At 
ten o’clock on each morning I had presented myself at the 
mayor’s office, where the polite custodian of the place, a negro, 
of course, was awaiting me with smiling offers of service. 
From ten to three I sat alone with my cigar and my book, 
which proved more entertaining than I had hoped. I had not 
expected much from an American author, but Mr. Brown’s 
“ Wieland,” though not equal in pathos to “ Clarissa Harlowe ” 
nor comparable in excitement to the “ Mysteries of Udolpho,” 
was yet fairly exciting, with its romantic seductions and elegant 
libertines and all the other thrilling elements of a corrupt so- 
ciety that our novelists, I have never quite understood why, love 
to dwell upon. 

In all those two days while I was wrapped in the woes of 
Clara, not once was I interrupted by a caller; by nothing, in- 
deed, more disturbing than my negro valet de chambre bring- 
ing me fresh drinking water or inquiring if there was any- 
thing he could do for me. I began to excuse Mr. La Force’s 
smile at my “ organized band of robbers.” Indeed, I smiled 
at it myself and said something of the kind to him when I 
handed him back the two uncalled-for envelopes. There was a 
little flicker of his eyelid that I did not quite like, when I 
handed them back, but, then, there were many things about 
9 129 


130 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


him that I did not quite like and this was one of the least of 
them. He was profuse again in his thanks and I was in haste 
to shake the dust of the office from me and be away to Cock- 
loft Hall. Mr. Irving and Mr. Kemble were to meet me at 
the City Tavern at half past three and I stood not upon the 
order of my going with Mr. La Force. 

I was riding Saladin as we three started on our madcap 
dash up Broadway and through Courtlandt Street toward the 
ferry to Paulus Hook. I was still in possession of the horse, 
because the day before I had received a note from William 
begging me to keep him at least through the fall months, and, 
by that time, possibly, after he had been through the thorough 
course of training he knew I would give him, he might be al- 
lowed to ride him; otherwise, he feared that Aunt Kitty would 
persuade his mother to do as all her friends advised — send 
him back to Monticello. 

So Saladin was to be mine for some weeks, at least, and I 
had great joy in his possession. I accepted him the more read- 
ily since I knew there was much truth in what Mrs. Living- 
ston had said; he was not fit for any boy’s riding, but I was so 
proudly greedy of his beauty and spirit I believe I would have 
snatched at the chance offered me to possess him for a while 
even without such good excuse. At the ferry he showed his 
breeding by behaving like a gentleman. He trembled violently, 
but he did not refuse to walk the gang-plank. I stood by him 
to comfort him all the way across, and he seemed to appreciate 
it and to try to thank me for doing so in the pretty way he 
had first used to Miss Desloge, and was beginning now to use 
to me, by rubbing his soft muzzle gently up and down my arm* 
Irving and Kemble fastened their horses and stood by me ad* 
miring Saladin’s many beauties and discussing his virtues and 
vices; but I was rapidly growing so fond of him that I was 
beginning to feel as many foolish mothers feel about their chil- 
dren, unwilling to acknowledge that he had any vices. 

Cockloft Hall was on the Newark road, about a mile on the 
hither side of the village. It was in no sense a great place. 
There could not have been more than twenty acres in the 


THE GREEN MOREEN CHAMBER 


131 


grounds and the house was quite near the road, a short drive 
leading up to a honeysuckled porch at the entrance. The house 
itself was broad and low, fifty or sixty feet in front, and over 
the central part only was a second story. It stood on the 
banks of the Passaic and, in the rear of the house, orchards, 
hanging heavy with scarlet and gold apples and the crimson 
globes of peaches, sloped down to the river. I had only time 
to note so much when out from the house, whooping like wild 
Indians, raced half a dozen young men to meet us, and a 
negro boy came running around the house to take our horses. 

Now I had known something of wild spirits and wild ways 
among young men at Oxford. I had seen deep drinking and 
high playing; I had seen men go mad with excitement over 
cards, and there was no kind of deviltry those Oxford men 
could not think of when they had had too much wine. But, 
in the first twelve hours I spent at Cockloft Hall, I saw more 
pure fun and frolic and wilder animal spirits than I had 
seen in my four years at Oxford, yet all was so amiable 
and gay; there was no quarreling, no heavy drinking; there 
was so much wit and sparkle with the fun that I began to 
think my American cousins the most charming people in the 
world. 

“ Let me present the Lads of Kilkenny to Sir Lionel March- 
mont,” said young Mr. Irving, as soon as Saladin gave me a 
chance to get off his back. 

“ The Nine Worthies of Manhattan, you mean, Jonathan/’ 
interposed a man whom I afterward learned was Mr. Irving’s 
older brother Peter, making a grand salaam as he spoke. “ I 
am glad to know you, Sir Lionel.” 

“ The Doctor has made a little mistake, Sir Lionel,” inter- 
posed a slender youth with the waving hair and dreamy eyes 
of a poet, “ Not the Nine Worthies, but the Ancient and Hon- 
orable Order of Cocks of the Loft. I am Billy Taylor at your 
service, sir, and one of the least of the Cocks.” 

But here our host interrupted, “Just wait one moment, 
Ancients and Honorables, let us put it straight to start with. 
Sir Lionel, I present to you the ancient and learned Mr, Peter 


132 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


Irving, best known as the Doctor. This is Mr. Paulding, our 
poet, who calls himself Billy Taylor; and the next man is 
Mr. Dick McCall, alias Ooromdates. You will recognize Sin- 
bad, I am sure, known in polite society as Mr. David Porter, 
a true salt. That handsome man next is Mr. Henry Ogden, 
our Supercargo. I am sorry to say there are only seven of 
our Worthies present. Nuncle and Captain Greatheart, other- 
wise known as Mr. Henry Brevoort, Jr., and Mr. Ebenezer 
Irving are both out of town. Gentlemen, I propose that for 
to-night and to-morrow we make Sir Lionel one of our Ancient 
and Honorable Order.” 

I was taken into their order with shouts of welcome and a 
strong grip from every hand. That ceremony was performed 
on the honeysuckle porch, and as my host ushered me into the 
drawing-room (an imposing apartment richly furnished in the 
oriental manner, opening by wide doors at one end into a 
great dining-room and at the other into a library or smoking 
room), he appealed to his companions, “Well, lads, shall we 
give Sir Lionel the Green Moreen Chamber ? ” 

There was a universal shout in response of “ No, no, Pa- 
troon,” and then out of the babel of tongues I caught three dis- 
tinct suggestions: 

“ Give him the blue chintz chamber.” 

“ Give him the pink chintz chamber.” 

“ Give him the red silk chamber.” 

The Patroon laughed and turned to young Mr. Irving. 
“ What do you say, J onathan ? ” 

“ Give him the Green Moreen Chamber, by all means ; Sir 
Lionel is no baby,” said Mr. Irving. 

“You know, gentlemen,” said the Patroon courteously, “Jon- 
athan’s word is law with me.” And then to me : “ Sir Lio- 
nel, our quarters at Cockloft Hall are somewhat confined. As 
a rule we find it necessary to give evgry man a roommate, 
but since there are only eight of us to-night you can sleep 
alone unless you prefer company.” 

Now there had been something mysterious in the sound 
of the Green Moreen Chamber, and particularly had Mr. 


THE GREEN MOREEN CHAMBER 


133 


Irving’s dictum that I was “no baby” suggested the need of 
courage to a man sleeping in it. Was it haunted? Well, 
since Mr. Irving had put me there, I would choose Mr. Irving 
for a roommate. If there were any peril in occupying that 
chamber, he should share it. 

When I said so to my host, my decision was greeted with a 
shout of delight, and Mr. Irving was, or pretended to be, quite 
crestfallen. 

A curving staircase ascended from one end of the Chinese 
Room, as the drawing-room was called, but before showing 
me upstairs to the Green Moreen Chamber, the seven Worthies 
held a solemn conclave as to the name by which I should be 
known as long as I remained a member of their Ancient and 
Honorable Order. They settled on “ The Knight of the Green 
Moreen,” and when I suggested it might be more appropriate 
to call me “ The Green Knight of the Moreen,” they assented 
gravely, and added that, out of deference to my expressed wish 
they would call me “ Green ” for short, and “ Green ” I re- 
mained to those seven men as often as I met them and as long as 
I remained in America. 

I liked it well, for though my title of Sir Lionel was not 
much of a title, yet I could not, probably, in any other way, 
have persuaded them to drop it on so short an acquaintance, 
and I should have had to call them Mr. Paulding, Mr. Irving, 
Mr. Ogden, etc., which makes always, I find, for formality and 
against good fellowship. 

It had been half past three when we left the City Tavern. 
It was now six o’clock, and, being late August, the long shad- 
ows were on the grass and the sun was nearing its setting. 
My usual dinner hour had been half past three, but, owing to 
our impatience to be off, I had only secured a bite of luncheon 
after my return from Mr. Livingston’s office, and I was be- 
ginning now to think of tea with longing and to hope that it 
might prove a more substantial meal than tea was generally 
supposed to be, and earlier than the usual half past seven or 
eight o’clock hour. I determined on an expeditious toilet and 
started with alacrity to follow Mr. Irving towards the curving 


134 MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 

staircase. But before I had reached the first step someone 
called : 

“ Hello, Green, what do you say to giving us a back before 
you go upstairs ? You will have your work all to do over again 
if you get ready for supper now.” 

I did not, for a moment, recognize my new name nor did I 
recognize what was meant by “ giving a back.” But I was not 
left long in doubt, for my friend “ J onathan ” turning quickly 
caught me by the arm and wheeled me right-about-face.' 

“ Why, of course,” he shouted. “ Come along, Lads ; come 
along, Green,” and in five minutes I found myself in the shady 
orchard playing a more rough and tumble game of leap-frog 
than I had played since I was a boy at Clover Combe Court. 

Now Irving and I were the two smallest members of this 
band of Worthies; Ogden and Porter were giants by compar- 
ison. It gave them great delight, therefore, when either of 
us was giving the back, to dig our noses down in the soft tan- 
bark of the path where we were playing, and, if they were giv- 
ing the back, to so lift their broad shoulders as to make the 
straddling almost impossible. I was not prepared for it at 
first, and Ogden, who was the bigger man and the bigger joker 
of the two, made me ignominiously bite the dust on his first 
round over me, and by rising suddenly landed me in the middle 
of his broad back as I tried to go over him. Of course, both 
exploits were greeted with roars of laughter, and for one mo- 
ment I thought perhaps they were guying me because I was 
British, and my temper, always quick to flash, began to rise. 
These Yankees should not have all the sport, I determined, 
and the next time the Supercargo came over me I was ready 
for him. As his hands touched my back I let myself go flat 
and over went the Supercargo, his great hulk turning a com- 
plete somersault and coming up with his long hair full of tan 
bark and sputtering out a great mouthful that he had taken in 
from his unexpected dive. This time the shouts of laughter 
were louder than at my discomfiture. I saw there was no in- 
ternational feeling here, and I was quickly restored to my good 
temper. 


THE GREEN MOREEN CHAMBER 


135 


Still spitting and sputtering, the Supercargo shook his fist at 
me good-naturedly, “ I ’ll be even with you, Mr. Green,” he 
shouted, and his friends began to warn me: “Look out for 
him, Green, when he gives you a back,” and I was on the look- 
out for him. 

Now Mr. Ogden was over six feet. His shoulders must 
have been very nearly six feet from the ground. I was good 
at a high vault and I made up my mind to make a running 
leap as nearly six feet as I could manage. If he did not rise 
it would carry me clean over his head; if he did rise I would 
land on his shoulders, where I hoped to land. And I did. He 
rose, as I expected him to, and I landed square on his shoul- 
ders and quickly clasped my legs, about his neck. They told 
me afterwards that his amazement at this new kind of Sinbad 
was something to behold. I could not see it, of course, but I 
could feel it, and clutching his long hair with one hand I 
waved the other aloft in token of triumph. Then he began 
to shake his head and shoulders and try to dislodge me, but 
I but held the tighter, and when he shook and pranced too 
hard I had but to press my knees slightly on his jugular and 
grip his hair tighter to make him howl for mercy, while his 
comrades shrieked with delight. 

When he found there was no getting rid of me in that fash- 
ion he started on a keen run, jumping and leaping as he ran, 
and I thought I had never found a cross country run over 
fences and ditches more exciting or half so exhilarating. The 
six Worthies were at our heels like a pack of hounds giving 
mouth at sight of quarry. I did not at first know what he 
was after but those behind me evidently did, for they began to 
call to the Supercargo to “ Hold on ! ” “ Don’t be too funny ! ” 
and various other warnings and exhortations, the Patroon fi- 
nally calling in stentorian tones with a ring of authority, “ Put 
him down. Supercargo. Remember! he’s our guest.” 

“ Put me down ? He ’d like to but he can’t,” I called back 
impudently, and came near regretting my impudence, for at 
that moment we burst through a hedge of willows fringing a 
small lake or pond, and the Supercargo’s intention became sud- 


136 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


denly luminous to me. He paused for a moment to get his 
breath, and I ceased my jeering. I was not afraid of water 
but I did not care to go into it with the only suit of clothes 
I had brought with me on my back, and it began to look as if 
I might have to. 

“Now, Sir Knight of the Green Moreen,” he threatened, 
when he had recovered his breath sufficiently to allow him to 
speak between gasps, “will you get down off my back or shall 
I douse you in the water ? ” 

“Just as you please, Mr. Supercargo,” I answered coolly. 
“ You know, of course, if I go you go too.” 

“Better to drown than to be choked to death,” he growled. 
“ Here goes, sir ! ” And with that he gave a mighty lunge 
forward. 

I had to think quickly and to act quickly. As he sprang 
forward I unclasped my legs from his neck and leaped as 
nimbly backward. I do not think he intended going into the 
water; he intended nothing more than to give me a good scare, 
but the forward impetus of my backward spring was too much 
for his equilibrium, and he plunged heavily into the lake face 
down. The water was shallow and he was up again in a mo- 
ment and splashing to the shore, laughing almost as heartily 
as the others, who were holding their sides and doubling up 
like jack-knives in their paroxysms of delight, but between his 
genial guffaws he was also vowing vengeance. 

“ I ’ll catch you and douse you yet, you little Britisher ! ” 
he roared. And, “ Run, Green, run ! ” they all shouted to me. 
“ He means what he says.” 

“ Run for the house and the Green Moreen Chamber,” called 
Irving, and then, realizing perhaps, that I did not know where 
to find the Green Moreen Chamber, he sprang to my side, run- 
ning neck and neck with me straight for the house, with the 
whole pack after us in full cry. 

We were a well-matched team and it was soon evident we 
could easily outrun the others, but we did not slacken our pace 
until we had reached the house, dashed up the stairs, and found 
ourselves behind the bolted door of the Green Moreen Chamber. 


THE GREEN MOREEN CHAMBER 


137 


Then Irving dropped on to the floor and rolled over and over, 
kicking his heels in the very ecstacies of mirth, and I sat down 
on the side of one of the two beds and grinned. 

As we were dashing into the house we had nearly rnn against 
and knocked over an old man and woman, the man grinning 
in sympathy with onr frolic, the woman making frantic ges- 
tures and calling something to us as we passed. 

“ Who were they ? ” I asked J onathan when our first trans- 
ports had subsided. 

“ It was Mammy and Daddy J acobs, the old couple who live 
here and take care of the place,” he answered, “ and they, with 
the negro boy Pompey, who took our horses, form the whole 
establishment. You must not expect much service at Cock- 
loft Hall.” 

“I am better content without in a delightful bachelor’s den 
like this,” I answered. “It’s the best I have ever known. 
It ’s the real thing — absolute freedom.” 

“ Absolute license might express it better. I wonder some- 
times we don’t shock poor old Mammy Jacobs into her grave. 
Daddy seems to enjoy it.” 

“ What was it the old woman was calling to us ? ” I asked. 

“ I think, probably, she was trying to tell us supper was 
ready, to stop our fooling and come down.” 

“ That sounds good to me,” I said. “ I will get ready im- 
mediately,” and sprang up with alacrity to put my word in 
action, when it occurred to us both at the same moment to 
wonder what had become of our pursuers. Irving went to the 
window to reconnoiter and called to me to come quick and 
look. Under a spreading oak not far from the house the six 
were seated in solemn conclave. As they discovered us look- 
ing out, the Patroon arose, waved a flag of truce and coming 
up under our window announced that since supper was ready, 
or rather, as Mammy Jacobs said “spoiling,” an armistice had 
been agreed upon, but that after supper the Knight of the 
Green Moreen would be tried in the Octagon on a charge, 
preferred against him by the Supercargo, of assault with in- 
tent to kill. Fifteen minutes would be allowed for a supper 


138 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


toilet, and at the beating of the gong the Patroon would ex- 
pect his guests to present themselves in the Chinese Eoom. 
He would like to know if these terms were acceptable to the 
Knight of the Green Moreen. 

“ Perfectly so/’ he was assured, particularly the last one, for 
the Knight of the Green Moreen was beginning to feel himself 
a famished night of the Eueful Countenance. 

When, fifteen minutes later, we were all assembled in the 
Chinese Eoom, I was astonished to find as orderly and cour- 
teous a set of young gentlemen as might be found at any lady’s 
dinner party. Nor did they grow wildly hilarious at the sup- 
per table, which I thought the most delicious meal and the 
oddest I had ever sat down to. There were young chickens 
cooked in a most wonderful manner with a rich brown gravy 
poured over them and served with a flat cake — a “ fritter ” — 
made of the grated green corn — whole ears of which I had 
found on every dinner table since my landing, to be eaten from 
the cob in a most outlandish fashion, but I must confess most 
toothsome to the taste. Then there were wonderful little 
scones, wdiite as snow and light as feathers, and served so hot 
that the butter melted as it touched them; and a dish they 
called “ creamed potatoes ” that transformed that common- 
place vegetable into food fit for the gods. Then there was 
wonderful coffee, so clear an amber until the rich cream turned 
it a golden brown, so excellent for strength, so exquisite for 
flavor as I had not conceived coffee could be, and served in big 
breakfast-cups which were yet too small to satisfy the appetite 
for such Olympian nectar. And for the sweets after the meal, 
there were luscious peaches cut up and swimming in golden 
cream, and cake of a rich and toothsome quality. There was 
no wine served at table but, perhaps, because I had had but 
little dinner and much violent exercise, no meal I had ever sat 
down to had seemed quite so satisfying. 

Somewhat to my surprise, also, after what Irving had told 
me of the menage , it was served in a most orderly and comme 
il faut fashion. The old man, Jacobs, and the young negro 
Pompey acted as butler and footman, and though there was 


THE GREEN MOREEN CHAMBER 


139 


much gay talk and much laughter over the Supercargo’s bath 
and my ride on his shoulders, it was all very decorus and sea- 
soned with the sparkle of wit and epigram. 

When I had a chance to say to Mr. Irving that I was not 
prepared for such orderly state at table after the violence of 
the hilarity preceding it, he told me the Patroon would have 
it so. Freedom to the verge of license everywhere else, but 
at table each man must remember his breeding or he could 
not remain a guest at Cockloft Hall. 

The after-glow of the sunset, soft and rosy, had been in the 
sky when we sat down to supper and the long windows of the 
dining-room open to the west had given us a view of it, and 
of the heavily-laden orchards on the slopes of the hill and the 
gleam of lake and river between the trees. They had also 
given entrance to a soft evening breeze, very grateful after the 
heat of the day. The candles were lighted when we sat 
down but there had been enough of daylight to dim their 
radiance. By the time the after-glow had faded and the candles 
were burning their best, the moon that had been a slender 
crescent on the night of the dinner at the Grange was hanging 
like a silver lantern over the top of the tallest tree in the 
orchard, and though it was still a concave moon it could no 
longer be called a crescent, and it was shedding an inviting 
luster on the black mass of foliage below it. 

The Patroon rose in his place. “Wine and cigars in the 
Octagon, gentlemen, by the light of the moon, and afterward 
the trial by jury,” he said, and led the way out by the long 
windows to a porch at the rear, and from thence through the 
orchard to an octagon-shaped kiosk or summer house standing 
on an eminence between the shores of the little lake on one 
side and the gently flowing waters of the Passaic on the other. 

My attention had been too entirely concentrated on my ef- 
forts to save myself a ducking when I had visited the lake 
shore before supper to notice the Octagon. I thought now it 
looked very fair and lovely in the moonlight, graceful in shape 
and built of finely carved stone, its broken image reflected in the 
shimmering waters of the little lake at its foot. It was even 


140 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


more attractive on the inside than from the ontside. Wide 
windows filled each of the sides looking toward the lake of the 
one large room in the interior, with mahogany window-seats 
built in below them, piled high with cushions. Some, at least, 
of these window-seats served also for lockers, for I saw our host 
open one and take out cushions and a rug to make one of the 
seats more comfortable. There were a few easy chairs and 
mahogany stands holding glasses and smoking implements scat- 
tered about the room, which was lighted only by a dim lantern 
suspended from the apex of the vaulted roof and by the pale 
moonlight on the outside. The Passaic was a tidal river and 
the tide being now near the flood and pouring through a sluice 
just below my window into the little lake filled my ears with 
the pleasant sound of rushing waters. 

To my surprise I had hardly taken my seat when young 
Ogden came over and sat down beside me. I certainly bore 
him no ill will for our little escapade of the afternoon, but 
I had hardly expected him to bear me so much good will as 
to seek me out. 

“ Green,” he began at once, “ I want to acknowledge my- 
self vanquished in a fair fight and shake hands on it. I don’t 
like to be beaten, and especially by a little fellow of half my 
weight, but I can’t help admiring your pluck and spirit.” 

“ It ’s generous of you to say so,” I answered, giving him 
my hand. 

“Yes, I think it is, rather,” he grinned; “it’s usually the 
victor who can afford to be generous and not the vanquished 
But I want to say something else. I acknowledge I ’ve been 
whipped but you know this is not the end of it. Now if you 
lose out in the trial, if you are condemned, I don’t want you 
to think that I have anything to do with it and lay it up 
against me. I shall be as helpless as you — it all lies with 
the judge and jury.” 

“ All right,” I laughed. “ I ’ll owe you no grudge however 
it turns out. And even if I should be condemned I don’t sup- 
pose the sentence will be anything very dreadful.” 

“ I don’t know about that.” He shook his head ominously 


THE GREEN MOREEN CHAMBER 


141 


“ But anyhow you have the true spirit of sport and I like you ; 
a thing I never expected to say of any Briton.” And with 
that he threw his arm over my shoulder and began to chaff 
me about my size and “ pluck,” as he called it, in so good- 
natured a way that I very soon shook off my awkwardness at 
being treated so affectionately and began also to discover a real 
, liking for my big adversary. 

While we had been talking I had seen our host open a door 
in the floor and descend to a subterranean cellar. He re- 
turned now laden with cobwebby bottles, and, while the moon 
still flooded the room, for half an hour we smoked and drank 
some fine old wine and told or listened to some very good 
stories (Irving, Kemble and Paulding were the story-tellers), 
with as much decorum as our dignified elders might have 
done. Then as the moon sank behind the hill and the room 
darkened, Kemble called on Ogden to help him, and lighting 
the candles in sconces around the walls until the room was a 
blaze of light he summoned the court to assemble and my trial 
began. 

Now I have listened to many trials since. I have rather a 
fondness for that sort of thing, but I have sometimes thought 
that never have I listened to keener pleading, sharper cross- 
questioning of witnesses (of whom dozens were called, the 
Supercargo, Ooromdates and Sinbad answering each to a dozen 
different names in turn), nor have I often listened to a sen- 
tence more learnedly or impressively pronounced than was Judge 
Kemble’s that night. As prisoner I was allowed to make a 
plea for myself, and the judge, in referring to it, was kind 
enough to call it “most eloquent, most impassioned, and most 
persuasive.” But it was the speeches of the two learned coun- 
sel, Mr. Irving, for the defense, and Mr. Paulding, for the 
prosecution, that were the great efforts of the evening. Mr. 
Irving’s speech, in particular, glittered with imagery, sparkled 
with wit, and blazed with eloquence, but all to no effect. The 
solemn jury, “ twelve able-bodied, fair-minded citizens,” the 
judge called them (represented in the person of the Doctor), 
returned a unanimous verdict after retiring five minutes for 


142 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


consultation with itself, of “ Guilty of felonious assault with 
intent to kill/’ and recommending the prisoner to “ Justice 
without mercy.” 

I was quite sure what my sentence would be. I knew what 
I would have made it, had I been judge. I was quite pre- 
pared, therefore, to hear it delivered in blood-curdling tones: 
“ To be ducked three times in his night garments in the same 
lake into which he had artfully and wickedly caused the Super- 
cargo to plunge.” 

And then, less solemnly: — 

“ Owing, however, to the youth and condition of the pris- 
oner, a stranger in a strange land, the Court is inclined to ex- 
ercise some leniency and will therefore impose certain condi- 
tions which the prisoner may be able to turn to his advantage. 
The execution of this sentence is limited to the hours between 
midnight and sunrise. Should the officers entrusted with 
its execution not be able to find the prisoner between those 
hours, or should he offer such resistance when they came to 
arrest him in bed in the Green Moreen Chamber as to prevent 
their putting the sentence into execution between the afore- 
said hours, then the prisoner, under the rules of the Ancient 
and Honorable Order of Cocks of the Loft, should go Scot- 
free.” 

“ And now, gentlemen,” the judge rose to his feet as he spoke, 
his flowing robes of office (a red damask curtain from one of 
the windows), and his full-bottomed wig (a sheepskin mat 
from the floor), lending him great majesty of appearance and 
making him, indeed, truly awful to look upon, so that the 
prisoner quaked in his shoes before him ; “ gentlemen, the hour 
is ten minutes before eleven; by midnight the prisoner is ex- 
pected to be sound asleep in his bed in the Green Moreen 
Chamber and fully arrayed for bed in night garments only . 
I adjourn this court sine die and at once that we may snatch 
a few minutes of much needed repose in preparation for the 
arduous duties that no doubt await us between the hours of 
midnight and sunrise.” 

We walked up to the house very amicably; I between Kemble, 


THE GREEN MOREEN CHAMBER 


143 


the judge, and Irving, my counsel. Two of our number were 
carrying lanterns, for now that the moon was down it was pitch 
black under the trees of the orchard. 

“ This is the end of it, I suppose,” I said, speaking carelessly, 
or trying to, as if I felt no doubt of it. “ The sentence, of 
course, was a joke.” 

“Not at all,” spoke Kemble and Irving in a breath, and 
the Patroon went on to say in his gravely courteous fashion : 

“ My dear Sir Lionel, there is no joke about it. I hope you 
can swim, for in all human probability you will have at least 
three opportunities to practice your stroke before morning.” 

Now old Captain Joshua of The Flying Fish at Clover 
Combe always said no sea gull could be more at home on the 
water than I, but I did not think it a good time to boast of 
my powers in that direction. 

“ And suppose I cannot swim ? ” I asked gravely. “ Do you 
really propose to throw a helpless man into the water ? ” 

“ We certainly do not propose to drown you, Sir Lionel,” 
with a smile, revealed not so much by the uncertain light of 
the lanterns as by his tones. “ If you can’t swim, perhaps you 
can wade, and I ’ll advise the boys to throw you in where the 
water is shallow.” 

“ Where you threw me in this afternoon,” called Mr. Ogden 
from just behind us, who had been listening to us. 

“ Thank you ! But — don’t you first have to catch your 
hare ? ” 

“ Oh ! of course, but he ’s as good as caught already.” 

“ You mean he does n’t stand much chance in defending him- 
self, one against seven ? ” 

“ Yes, and I hope he won’t try it. He ’ll come off much 
better by simply yielding.” 

“ That may be good Yankee philosophy but it ’s not British. 
Eight or flee, but never yield. Suppose I run away ? ” 

“ You ’ll be caught. Remember the rules are that you are to 
stay in bed until the first stroke of twelve.” 

“ I ’ll remember. What happens on the first stroke of 
twelve ? ” 


144 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ You ’ll see/’ said Ogden chuckling, and then the Patroon 
interposed : 

“ But remember, Supercargo, it is only between midnight and 
sunrise. From the moment the first beam touches the gilt deer 
on top of the Octagon, Sir Lionel is a free man.” 

“ And Patroon,” returned Mr. Ogden, “ please tell Sir Lionel 
that my ducking this afternoon has really nothing at all to do 
with his ducking to-night; that he could not have escaped it 
even had there been no leap-frog this afternoon.” 

“ Sir Lionel,” said the Patroon gravely, “ it is a law of our 
Order that the first night that anyone sleeps in the Green 
Moreen Chamber he must be taken out and ducked three times 
in the lake. It is a law of the Medes and the Persians and 
changeth not; winter or summer, seed time or harvest, the 
man who sleeps there for the first time is doomed.” 

A ray from the lantern illuminated strongly at that moment 
the face of young Irving, and my own as well, I suppose, for as 
I glanced at him reproachfully he colored and turned away, 
tried to say something and broke down stammering; or could 
it have been he was laughing? 

“ Et tu Brute!” I muttered between my teeth for his ear 
only, “ is this why you advised putting me in the Green Moreen 
Chamber ? ” 

He heard me and murmured in reply : 

“I loved not Caesar less but the traditions of our Order 
more. The Lads of Kilkenny must have their sport.” 

“At my expense! I will remember it some day when you 
come to Clover Combe Court. You shall sleep in a Green 
Moreen Chamber and may the gods hasten your coming ! ” 


XIII 


IN THE OCTAGON KIOSK 

I T was less than an hour we had for sleep, but there was no 
thought of sleep with either of us as we lay in bed talking, 
in the genial strain that I had already discovered Mr. Irving 
was sure to give to any conversation in which he had a part. 
We were waiting for that stroke of twelve when Mr. Ogden 
had said I would see what would happen, and in waiting we 
were running up and down a long and varied gamut of topics. 

Now it would hardly be possible that a family who had 
dwelt for so many hundreds of years, as mine had dwelt, on 
the very borders of Wales, could escape a strain of Welsh blood. 
Mine had not escaped. A beautiful Glengower had brought into 
the family, a hundred and fifty years before, along with her Welsh 
beauty some Welsh characteristics, so marked and of such per- 
sistent quality that one or more of the Welsh traits had cropped 
out in each succeeding generation. My aunt, who had more 
of the Welsh blood than I, and of which she was justly proud, 
always insisted that I had several marked characteristics of the 
race, and one of them was a peculiar tendency at any moment, 
when it might be least expected or most inopportune, to hark 
back to the past. I might be in the midst of the most stirring 
adventure — the present would slip from me and I would be 
dwelling mournfully or tenderly on scenes of my childhood or 
earlier youth. 

Now as we lay in our beds talking across to each other in 
the dark, gayly and boisterously, almost, of the adventures of 
the afternoon and evening, suddenly, without warning of any 
kind, I was in memory racing through the sweet Devonshire 
lanes with Eosie Dufour; I on Black Tom and she on Snow- 
flake, our two ponies that we regarded as the most spirited 
io 145 


146 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


and gallant steeds in the world, and of whose virtues we each 
vaunted boastingly to the other. Snowflake was the swifter of 
foot but Black Tom could take a ditch or a hurdle or even 
a low hedge without flinching, and not the M. P. H. himself — 
who happened to be my father — was prouder of his mount 
than I of my black hunter, as I called him. 

“I will race you and beat you, Lion,” Eosie called back 
defiantly to me. She was already well in the lead, her red curls 
floating behind her and her saucy freckled face turned toward 
me with that triumphant glow in the brown eyes I never could 
stand. 

“ I ’ll race you down Clover Lane ! ” I shouted in return. 

Now there were at least two ugly ditches in Clover Lane 
where the men were at work draining the south meadows, and 
Eosie was afraid of the ditches and I knew it. 

“ No; I don’t like Clover Lane,” pouted Eosie; “ I ’m going up 
the Combe Moor Eoad.” 

“ Ha ! You ’re afraid ! ” I taunted, and then I saw the little 
freckled face turn pale under the freckles and the brown eyes 
grow somber. 

“ I ’m afraid of nothing, Lion Marchmont ! You can’t lead 
anywhere I will not follow ! ” 

Bravado was in the defiant tone, but a little quaver on the 
last word betrayed her. 

I relented for a moment, but the domineering spirit natural 
to a young male prevailed. 

“ Come on, then, we ’ll see, Miss Great-heart ! ” I called with 
a sneer, and wheeled Black Tom. 

I was in the lead then, for we had been headed for the 
Combe Moor Eoad, and Clover Lane lay quite in the opposite 
direction. I did not look back and I spurred Black Tom to 
his utmost for I heard Snowflake’s hoofs gaining on us. She 
passed us not a dozen lengths before we reached the first ditch, 
and as she flashed by I caught a glimpse of Eosie’s white face, 
and terror seized me for her terror. 

“ Stop, Eosie ! ” I shouted ; “ Snowflake ’s sure to balk.” 

But Eosie only shook her head and in a moment I saw her 


IN THE OCTAGON KIOSK 


147 


put Snowflake at the ditch, and Snowflake refuse at first, but 
at the touch of Rosie’s whip and the lift of her bridle make a 
half-hearted attempt which resulted, as all half-hearted at- 
tempts are sure to result — in failure. 

Over went pony and rider into the ditch. Dismay, terror, 
a horrible fear clutched at my heart as I sprang from Black 
Tom and leaped down into the ditch, at the bottom of which 
lay Rosie, white as death, and dead I verily believed. 

I was only a little boy, not more than eight or nine, and 
small for my age. And though Rosie was little more than a 
baby, six or seven, I suppose, she was a big load for my small 
arms, though my sturdy legs pulled us safely up the steep sides 
of the ditch, gasping for breath and uttering shrill cries for 
help between my gasps. 

At my cries the men came running from their work in the 
meadow and carried Rosie into one of the cottages not far 
away, where it was soon discovered no bones were broken and 
that she was only stunned by her fall. And Snowflake, having 
scrambled out of the ditch herself, also unhurt, and waiting 
patiently for her mistress at the cottager’s door, we soon had 
Rosie on her back and jogging slowly homewards. 

With my arm through Black Tom’s bridle and clutching 
Snowflake’s near the bit, I walked by Rosie’s side, a very pen- 
itent and very much awed little boy, for I had never seen any- 
one in a faint before and I could not forget how I had thought 
her dead, nor could I forget that my taunts had driven her 
to dare the leap we both knew Snowflake could not make. 
Where the lane sank into cool shadow overhung by high hedges 
in full and fragrant bloom, I brought Snowflake to a stand- 
still, and looking up at Rosie with a beating heart and a 
shamed face whose hot flushes I can still feel, I begged her to 
kiss me and forgive me for being so rude — which she did very 
sweetly, with a rosy face and just the least little flicker, quickly 
gone, of that triumphant glow in the brown eyes that I did 
not like. 

Now why all this should have flashed into my mind as I lay 
in bed talking to Irving of the ducking I had given young 


148 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMP ANION 


Ogden, while I waited nervously for the stroke of twelve, I do 
not know, except that, according to my aunt, it was my Welsh 
inheritance to have the past flash in on the totally unrelated 
present. 

It only required a half dozen seconds for memory to put the 
whole scene vividly before me, and in a very few minutes with 
the garrulousness of youth I had told it all to Irving. I had 
already discovered that he was keen for any hint of romance 
and I need not have been surprised at the way he took my 
little tale. 

“ By J ove, man ! ” he exclaimed as I finished my recital ; 
“ what has become of that Eosie Dufour ? You ought to marry 
her some day to make a fitting sequel to the romance.” 

“ Marry a freckled-face, red-headed baby ! ” I answered con- 
temptuously. “ My wife must be beautiful if I ever have one.” 

“ She ’s not a baby still, I suppose,” he retorted, “ and if 
you have n’t seen her lately she may be as beautiful as Made- 
moiselle Desloge for all you know. I ’ve no doubt Miss Desloge 
was a red-headed little girl herself ten years ago.” Then he 
added quite seriously: 

“ I \e been in love with half a dozen beautiful young women 
and probably will be with half a dozen more, but if ever I 
marry I believe it will be a little girl not yet thirteen, the 
sister of one of my friends and the sweetest child the sun ever 
shone on.” 

He spoke so earnestly he roused my interest, and I would 
have liked to make him talk more of the child, for whatever 
he said always sounded to me like a story from a book, but 
before either of us could utter another word, from a tall old 
clock on the stair landing near our door there came a deep 
bell-like sound. 

It was the first stroke of twelve and promptly at the first 
stroke, I saw , as Mr. Ogden had said I would. I was in bed, 
according to order, and also, according to order, fully unclad, 
wearing only my night garments. But I had placed my boots 
conveniently beside my bed, and also beside my bed a Chinese 
dressing robe of flowered and embroidered silk, belonging, 


IN THE OCTAGON KIOSK 


149 


young Irving said, to the Patroon, and which I found hanging 
up in a wardrobe in the room. 

The Green Moreen Chamber was at the southwest corner of 
the house. One of its windows gave on to the roof of the 
dining-room, and over this roof hung the limbs of a great 
cherry tree. I had noticed this tree by daylight and wondered 
whether it would not be an easy feat to leap from the roof 
into the heart of it, and I had come very near inquiring of the 
Patroon whether it had ever been done, and asking his per- 
mission to try it sometime. I was glad now that I had not 
spoken. 

It seemed that, according to the rules of the game, Irving 
w^as allowed to take no active part in helping me, neither was 
he required to take part against me, and I was quite sure that 
I could count at least on a friendly silence from him. Promptly 
at the first stroke of twelve there was a tremendous thundering 
at the door, accompanied by demands to open it. I listened for 
a moment. I could detect but the voices of four men at the 
door, most likely the other two were on guard outside should 
I attempt to escape by the window. I sprang from bed, seized 
my boots and the dressing gown in one hand, and with a whis- 
pered request to Irving not to open to them for five minutes, I 
ran to the window. But at the sill I paused for a moment and 
turned back to whisper once more in Irving’s ear not to be wor- 
ried if he saw or heard nothing of me until sunrise. 

“ But let the others worry all they will,” was my parting in- 
junction, as I sprang through the window, ran noiselessly down 
the steep roof, and made a flying leap into the tree, which was 
more of a hazard than it might have been otherwise, since the 
tree was only a dim shadowy mass in the darkness, and I could 
not possibly tell where I would land. 

But my landing was better than I could have hoped for. 
My feet struck a solid bough and my right hand clutched some 
overhanging branches and steadied me as I alighted, and it 
was only the work of a moment to clamber swiftly down the 
close-set branches to the ground. Moreover, I was in luck in 
still another particular. I had not been wrong in deciding that 


150 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


there were only four at the door and two were probably outside, 
and had I delayed my escape a half minute longer the crash 
of my landing in the tree must have inevitably been heard by 
the two who now came running up silently to watch for me 
under its branches. It had taken them the two minutes I had 
consumed in my escape, to run down the stairs, get out of the 
house and around it to the cherry tree in the rear, and by the 
time they reached it I was securely hidden behind a dense 
clump of lilacs some twenty feet away. 

In scrambling down the tree I had continued to cling to my 
dressing gown and boots, seized as I sprang from bed. Now 
while Sinbad and Supercargo — they were the two who had 
been sent to guard the cherry tree — were carefully examining 
each branch and twig by the light of the lanterns they carried, 
I hastily drew on my boots and wrapped myself in the dressing 
gown. It was of dark green with flowers embroidered in black 
and lighter greens, nothing could be better to cover my white 
garments and render me invisible against the background of 
trees and shrubbery. 

Nothing could have been more fortunate for me, also, than 
that they stayed long enough under the cherry tree to give me 
a chance, by the light of their lanterns, to map out my route. 
The other four had come down from the Green Moreen Cham- 
ber and joined them. There were six under the cherry tree 
now, but only three carried lanterns. I could have wished they 
had all been armed with them, then it would have been an easy 
matter to keep out of their way, but in the meantime, by the 
light of the three, I was discovering the next clump of bushes 
behind which I might hide, and making sure of the points of 
the compass, since I was not familiar enough with the grounds 
to know where to find the shrubbery, nor could I be quite cer- 
tain, in the dark, which way the orchard and the summer-house 
lay. 

For my path lay through the orchard to the Octagon. It 
had come to me in a flash, while the Patroon was still pro- 
nouncing my sentence, that in that very spot I would stow 
myself away so comfortably and so securely that I believed it 


IN THE OCTAQON KIOSK 


151 


would take a good fox-hound to nose me out. I remembered the 
Patroon lifting one of those window seats and disclosing a 
locker long enough and deep enough for my five feet nine to 
curl up in very comfortably, and piled with cushions and rugs 
that would serve both for concealment and for a luxurious bed. 

I think it must have taken me nearly two hours to make that 
short journey from the house to the kiosk. If I had been 
alone in the wilderness, with hostile savages bent on taking my 
life, skulking behind every tree and bush, the perils of my situ- 
ation could not have seemed graver to me, nor I more keenly 
alive to the necessity for skill, caution and courage in escaping 
them. Later on in my American stay I had some experience 
of such perils with real savages, and I think they demanded 
no greater exercise of all my faculties than did that wild and 
foolish play that night. 

As I said before, it would have been easier if all of those 
who were scouring the grounds in search of me had carried 
lanterns, then I could at least tell that I was not falling into 
ambush. But only three carried lanterns and it was a com- 
paratively small matter to keep out of the way of their bobbing 
lights, but sometimes, in making a detour to avoid them I was 
stopped and turned to stone for the moment, by a stealthy 
sound that I knew must be some living creature creeping on 
me in the dark. My only hope was to remain absolutely mo- 
tionless until the stealthy movements had passed on and beyond 
me, knowing that it would be only a matter of good fortune 
if they did not stumble over me in the blackness. 

In making these detours to avoid the bobbing lanterns I lost 
my points of the compass, and there was no star in the heavens 
to guide me back to them. Twice I found myself once more 
under the walls of the house; once I passed the stables, which 
were in the opposite direction from the kiosk, and thought I 
heard Saladin whinnying as I passed. I stopped a moment 
when I heard the sound. What could be better than to get 
hold of Saladin ! Once on his back I could scour the country 
roads until daylight and at sunrise come riding leisurely up 
to the house with all danger of a ducking well over. 


152 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


But two considerations deterred me from acting on the sug- 
gestion: one was the difficulty of getting Saladin out and find- 
ing saddle and bridle, or at least bridle, in an unfamiliar stable 
in the dark. Even if the stable was not locked and I could 
get into it, I would, no doubt, raise such excitement among the 
horses as to betray my whereabouts. The other consideration 
was even more powerful : At this time of year it was daylight 
a full hour before sunrise and I must be galloping around the 
country in night clothes with a gorgeous mandarin robe floating 
out behind me, a spectacle for men and gods, the laughing 
stock of every milk-maid, the jeer of the seven Lads of Kil- 
kenny when I should come riding up into their midst, and a just 
butt for their ridicule through the rest of my stay in America. 

That settled it. I stole away from the stables and once more 
started on my devious course, my unprofitable search for a 
phantom kiosk, which I began to believe existed only in my 
dreams. 

Once I nearly ran into the arms of the big Ogden. He was 
standing still, so that I heard no sound to warn me of his near- 
ness, but when I w r as so close to him that I could have touched 
him with an extended arm, he doubtless heard my stealthy 
movements for he called out: “Who goes there? Friend or 
foe ? ” I ran swiftly back a few steps and then stood stock 
still, and after calling again, “ Who goes there ? ” he evidently 
thought he had been mistaken and moved on again. 

But what worried me most was that I could not find the 
kiosk ; that I was continuously going about in a circle. I had 
pictured myself taking a comfortable nap in that well-cushioned 
locker while the weary “Worthies” were scouring field and 
orchard for me, but I began to fear that I was to be the weary 
wanderer through the livelong night, only to be caught at dawn. 
When I had about given up in despair and was just deciding 
that I would sit down where I was, that the kiosk was more 
likely to come to me than I to the kiosk, my ear caught a 
sound that I recognized. It was the sound of rushing water. 
The tide was going out and the water was pouring through the 
sluice-way from the lake into the river. The kiosk was not so 


IN THE OCTAGON KIOSK 


153 


far away as I had supposed and now I had a sure guide to lead 
me to it. 

But my troubles were not quite over. Just as I had so nearly 
reached it that it was looming up before me as a dim and 
shadowy shape out of the blackness, out of that same blackness 
from opposite directions came two bobbing lanterns. They en- 
tered the Octagon and no doubt made* a thorough search for 
me inside. They came out again in a few minutes and I was 
congratulating myself once more on my luck that they had 
made their search of the Octagon before I had hidden in 
it, and now, no doubt, it was my safest hiding place, when 
to my chagrin, the two seated themselves on the steps of 
the building with the air of intending to spend the rest of 
the night there, and began to discuss all the possible and 
impossible places in which I could have taken refuge. 

I was so near to them that I could easily distinguish every 
word and I almost laughed aloud more than once in my 
hiding-place behind the trunk of an apple tree where I heard 
them recounting some of their experiences in their night 
search, and I gloated exceedingly over getting the better of 
them, when I heard one of them say, “I would not mind so 
much, but to be beaten by a Britisher , — Billy Taylor, we must 
get that fellow before sun-up.” 

Then they fell to considering ways and means again, I 
growing momently more impatient, for I dared not move from 
behind my tree, since their lanterns gave sufficient light to 
discover me, and should another of the hunters happen to come 
up in my rear I was certainly lost. 

I might have fumed away for the rest of the night but for 
a lucky chance. Suddenly out of the stillness there was an 
excited roar from Ogden not very far away : 

“ I ’ve got him ! I ’ve got him ! ” 

The two on the steps, Sinbad and Billy Taylor, rushed off 
in the direction of Ogden’s voice, and I only waited long 
enough to be sure I was beyond the circle of light from their 
lanterns to make a dash from behind my tree for the kiosk 
steps, through its door, which stood wide open, and straight 


154 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


for the nearest window seat. It proved to be a locker, as I 
had hoped, and it did not take many seconds to arrange my- 
self among the cushions in its depths, and draw a rug over me 
in such fashion as to cover all but my head and to allow at a 
moment's notice of drawing it over my head, also, should the 
necessity arise. 

Fortunately, August nights are cool and every window and 
door in the kiosk was wide open, or I never could have stood 
my close quarters and my rugs and pillows. I propped the 
lid of the locker open a little way by inserting the corner of 
a cushion near the hinges and arranging the others for my 
head so as to bring my nose close to the opening, I decided 
that I was thoroughly comfortable and as safe as I could 
hope to be, and there would be no harm in taking a little 
nap. My ride from New York through the hot afternoon, our 
rough and tumble play before supper, the trial, and that mid- 
night prowl in the dark with every nerve stretched to its 
utmost tension, had left me overcome with weariness. I lis- 
tened for a few minutes to the sound of voices in the dis- 
tance which now was a sound of laughter and jeers, — and 
I thought I understood the jeers: that Ogden had caught 
Irving, who was just my size, and thought that it was I, and 
Irving, with his love of jest, had let him think so. Listening 
to the distant sounds and laughing to myself over my explana- 
tion of them, they gradually grew dim and hazy to my senses, 
and before I knew it I was fast asleep. 

I do not know how long I slept, I was roused by voices 
and footsteps on the kiosk steps. Under the lifted lid of my 
locker I could distinctly see the chairs and tables in the room 
and the white face of the window opposite. It was daylight 
then, though still, perhaps, a long way from sunrise. I softly 
drew in the cushion that held up the lid of my locker, and let 
it gently down in its place, as the steps and voices entered the 
Octagon. 

The voices came to me slightly muffled since I had dropped 
the lid, but I could easily distinguish the words. 


IN THE OCTAGON* KIOSK 


155 


“Well, I for one am dead tired; not a step further will I 
go. Where in creation can the fellow be ? ” 

It was Ogden’s voice and I could hear him, as he spoke, 
throw his great hulk heavily into a leathern chair that creaked 
with his weight. 

“ I was sure we would find him when it grew daylight,” the 
Patroon’s calm voice indicated disappointment and some con- 
cern. “ I hope no harm has come to him, but if he is hidden 
anywhere about the place I think, Lads, we will have to confess 
ourselves outwitted.” 

“Yes, confound him! Seven against one, and a Briton at 
that! I would like to kick myself and all you fellows, too.” 
Sinbad spoke gloomily, and my friend Irving laughed. 

“ Cheer up, Sinbad ! ” he urged genially. I believe he was 
glad I had escaped, his tones were so cheerful. “ Patroon, 
give him a glass of port, he needs inspiriting.” 

“We all do; wait a minute. Lads,” and I heard the cellar 
door opening, the descending steps and a few minutes later 
the cheerful clink of glasses, and wished with all my heart 
the sun would hurry up and touch the gilt deer on top of the 
kiosk (though how I was to tell when it did, I could not see), 
that I might take my share of their good cheer. 

For fully fifteen minutes there was such a happy confusion 
of voices that I could only occasionally understand what they 
were saying; and in the meanwhile I was suffocating. I was 
compelled finally to lift the locker lid a tiny crack for a breath 
of air. 

But out of the confusion I heard presently very distinctly 
Sinbad’s voice in reply to someone: 

“Yes, Billy Taylor and I went through every locker and 
through the wine cellar with lanterns; he’s not in here.” 

“ How long ago ? ” asked Ogden. 

“ About two hours ago, I should think.” 

“ Plenty of time for him to have got in since.” 

“ All right, I ’ll look again if you say so.” 

My lid went softly down and I drew the rug over my head 


156 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


and put the cushions I had been using for pillows on top of 
me. A great slamming of lids with accompanying exclama- 
tions announced the search. He opened so many he must have 
come to mine last. He threw the lid up wide and prodded 
down into a cushion. 

“ Nothing here — it's my opinion he's gone back to New 
York/' he answered. 

I had not dared to breathe as he prodded the cushion; now 
I drew a breath of relief and thought “ I am safe." Then a 
horrible idea struck me: I had not heard him put down that 
lid . It was still wide open and the slightest movement on 
my part would certainly be discovered by some of those sharp- 
eyed fellows outside. I did not even dare to breathe and I was 
suffocating under the rug and the cushions and, as is natural, 
because I did not dare to move, I felt that I must, or die. I 
began really to be in agony; perspiration was starting from 
every pore, a cold sweat of anguish. I could not have held 
out many minutes longer, and I was beginning to contemplate 
surrendering at last after my long night of struggle and 
take my ducking. Why not? At this hour it would be noth- 
ing more than a morning plunge and the thought of the cool 
waters of the lake began to seem infinitely attractive. I believe 
I would have yielded but for the feeling that it was the honor 
of old England that was at stake. I must, for her sake, hold 
on to the end like grim death. 

And grim death I had about concluded it was going to be 
when, like a reprieve at the gallows, Billy Taylor's musical voice 
called from the doorway: 

“ Boys, the sun is shining on the gilt deer ! " 

“ It 's all up," groaned Ogden. “ Beaten, ye gods ! " 

An ominous and dismal groan greeted his words. 

I had only waited to assure myself that this was not a ruse 
they were playing on me, that if I were in hearing I might 
discover myself. At the groan I flung cushions and rugs from 
me and wrapping my dressing gown around me, stepped from 
the locker. 

“ Good morning, gentlemen," I said coolly. 


IN THE OCTAGON KIOSK 


157 


Every man sprang to his feet and stared at me as if he took 
me for a ghost. 

“ Patroon,” I asked, as no one spoke, “ would you mind 
offering me a glass of your fine old port ? I \e been asleep so 
long I need something to wake me up.” 

“ Done ! ” ejaculated Ogden, and sank limply into a chair. 
“ He ? s the only man that ever slept in the Green Moreen Cham- 
ber for the first time without getting a ducking. And he a 
Britisher! ” 


XIV 


MR. LA FORCE MAKES AN INSINUATION 

I P my first night at Cockloft Hall was a night of “ storm 
and stress,” as the German poets would call it, nothing 
could have been more peaceful than the day that followed that 
night, and the evening that brought that day to a close. 

In lieu of the ducking they were to have given me, we all 
plunged into the salt waters of the lake for a morning bath and 
then wended our way through the orchards to the house, the 
dew lying heavy on the long grass and that freshness in the air 
that I have often noted as peculiar to August mornings, as of 
a world just born again, and that sets my blood to tingling in 
my finger tips. 

I remember stooping to pick up a great apple under a tree 
whose boughs hung heavy with the golden globes and where the 
grass beneath was starred with them. Whether it was my long 
night of arduous adventures, or whether it was the spicy air of 
the August morning, or whether it was the apple itself, I have 
never tasted anything quite so sweet and juicy and luscious as 
that great fruit. A “ pound sweeting,” Mr. Kemble called it, 
and I thought it well named, both for size and quality. 

“It was half-past five of the morning and the long shadows 
were lying on the closely cropped turf between the orchard and 
the house, and a songbird was warbling a richer and more 
melodious note than I had often heard so late in the summer. 
Mr. Irving told me it was the famous American mocking-bird, 
rather rare in so high a latitude, but that a pair of them made 
their home in the elms of Cockloft Hall all the year round. 
Prom the house came the delicious odor of broiling bacon and 
steaming coffee. 

“ Breakfast in ten minutes, gentlemen ! ” said the Patroon, 

158 


ME. LA FORCE MAKES AN INSINUATION 159 


and with a whoop Ogden started for the house on a run, the 
whole troop after him, and I in my flying silk robe stream- 
ing far out behind me, since it was much too long for me, and 
my short night robe barely reaching to the scarlet tops of my 
Hessian riding boots, making a ridiculous figure, no doubt, but 
not the last one to dash into the house and up the stairs to the 
Green Moreen Chamber. 

Nor, though I had more of a toilet to make than the others 
— who had only their hair to brush and tie and their collars 
and ruffles to arrange — was I the last to present myself in 
the pleasant dining-room, with its open windows looking out 
into the orchard and giving entrance to the sweet morning air. 
And, once seated at the generous table, there was no one who 
did more valiant trencher service, for I was beginning to feel 
the keen edge that change of air and climate is like to give to 
appetite. 

That was a long day, and it proved to be a hot one, as Mr. 
Irving said these cool and dewy August mornings were likely 
to forerun, and we spent it in the big Chinese drawing-room 
with windows open on three sides, talking quietly of many 
things and dropping off between our talks into naps which we 
took lying on the luxurious Oriental divans. Our talk turned 
often on the duties that lay before us on the following day, 
and each man of the little company was full of instruction and 
advice to me as to how to perform my office of nurse, and how 
best to safeguard my health in the performance. Nor did 
Irving and Kemble cease to importune me to change my mind 
and to run no such hazard as they felt sure a stranger to their 
climate must needs run in exposing himself to the fever. I 
may have been foolhardy, I think now that I probably was, 
and that I might have saved my friends much anxiety and my- 
self many hours of suffering by listening to their wiser coun- 
sels, but I believed then that I was on the path of duty and I 
would not yield to their importunities. 

That evening after another game of leap-frog, followed by 
another bounteous supper, we sat in the kiosk by moonlight, 
each man talking quietly to the brother of his soul, as I learned 


160 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


was their custom on the eve of plunging into the perils of the 
fever, while we smoked and sipped our port. These talks were 
likely to drop into reminiscences, and sometimes messages were 
left for absent friends, for no man felt sure what the morrow 
would bring forth, since each day numbered its tens and hun- 
dreds of new victims, many of them friends and acquaintances. 
It reminded me of soldiers around the camp-fire on the eve of 
battle, talking solemnly to each other; knowing that they would 
never all sit together around the camp-fire again; that they 
would never look more into some of those familiar faces, and 
that there were voices sending messages to the loved ones at 
home that they were listening to for the last time — 'and no 
man knew but that fate was even then uttering to him its sol- 
emn edict — Thou art the man ! 

In one deep window sat Dick McCall and Harry Ogden, in 
another Peter Irving and Dick Porter, in still another the 
courtly Kemble and the gentle poet, John Paulding, and in 
the deep embrasure of another young Mr. Irving sat with his 
arm over my shoulder. 

“ And so you have no last messages for any fair ones ? ” he 
asked jestingly, for our talk had begun to grow more somber 
than either of us liked. 

“ None,” I answered. 

“ What ! So young and yet so cold of heart ! I wager those 
gray eyes and those Hyacinthine locks have done cruel exe- 
cution not once but often. Confess, Sir Knight of the Green 
Moreen.” 

“ There is no one,” I maintained stoutly. 

“ What about the little Eosie ? ” 

“ Tush ! ” I exclaimed impatiently. Somehow Eosie Dufour 
was always a sore subject with me, perhaps because I remem- 
bered my father’s expressed wish. 

“Well, then, Mademoiselle Desloge?” 

I was silent. I did not like his speaking jestingly of any 
lady, I said to myself. 

Young Irving understood and flushed. 

“ I beg your pardon, Sir Lionel,” he said quickly, “ if my 


ME. LA FOECE MAKES AN INSINUATION 161 


jest seemed ill timed. But it was not so much jest as earnest. 
This is an hour when we Lads of Kilkenny are used to speak- 
ing out our hearts to each other. Eosie Dufour was a jest, but 
it seemed to me that for Mademoiselle Desloge, your comrade 
at sea for five weeks, and a very lovely lady indeed, you might 
well have some message of remembrance should the morrow 
not bring you health and safety.” 

He had divined the thought of my heart. I had wished 
much that I might dare send her. some message in case the 
worst should befall. Therefore I thought a moment, and then 
I answered him soberly: 

"If I should not come out of this venture in safety, I 
would be glad indeed if you would send a message of love and 
farewell to my father and my Aunt Pamela at Clover Combe 
Court. And say to Mademoiselle Desloge that, had the fates 
permitted, I would have liked much to have had one more talk 
with her, such as I twice had on the Sea Gull . Tell her that 
I hope for her a happy sojourn in America and a safe return to 
her friends. And that I pray her, on the strength of our brief 
friendship, to beware of the fever and on no account to come 
nearer the city than her present quarters.” 

" These are messages I will gladly deliver,” said Mr. Irving 
with never a hint of a jest in his manner, " if the need should 
ever arise, which the gods forfend ! ” 

The Patroon and Billy Taylor, arm in arm, crossed the room 
to us at this moment. 

"Nine o’clock, gentlemen,” said the Patroon. "And the 
rules are rigid, you know, on the night before our return to 
nursing.” 

Then he turned to me and explained courteously : " It is 

our rule. Sir Lionel, that every man shall be in bed by half-past 
nine and sit down to breakfast at five o’clock the next morning. 
At half-past five we start for the city.” 

Every man sprang to his feet at the word of the Patroon 
and half-past nine saw every man in bed. And if I did not 
fall asleep at once it was not because Mr. Irving kept me awake 
with his talk as on the night before. There was profound 


162 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


silence in our room, and all over the place. The only sounds 
that broke the stillness of the summer night were the lonely 
chirpings of a tree toad in the cherry tree by my window (I 
never heard a tree toad in England shrill like that one) ; and 
the distant bass of a bull-frog from the marsh by the lake (his 
hoarse cry had startled me well the night before; we have no such 
trumpeters among our English frogs) ; the strident and monot- 
onous reiteration of that strange insect that Irving had told 
me said “ Katy-did ” and “ Katy did n’t ” all night long ; 
and the mournful call of a bird from the depths of a woody 
glen repeating rapidly over and over, “ Whip-poor-Will,” 
“ Whip-poor- Will,” according to Irving’s interpretation. It 
seemed that the birds and the insects talked in this strange new 
world, but I could have wished they had talked in less mourn- 
ful cadences, for the melancholy refrain “ Whip-poor-Will,” be- 
gan to sound to my excited ears like “ Yellow fever! Yellow 
fever ! Tell his father ! Tell his father ! ” 

I am not usually either nervous or apprehensive. I believe 
I must even then have been nursing the seeds of that dread 
disease that five days later laid me low, and that it was due 
to them that I lay tossing on my pillow a large part of that 
August night and that it seemed to me I had only just fallen 
asleep when Irving roused me with a shout that it was time to 
be stirring. 

Certainly the next few days have always been a dream-like 
haze in my memory, with but two or three points standing out 
with sufficient vividness to be recalled. One of those points 
was the loveliness of the August morning, cool, dew-drenched, 
filled with pungent odors of sea and shore, through which we 
rode, a rather sober band of young men, along a road winding 
from one little village to another, through green meadows and 
richly laden orchards, down to the ferry of Paulus Hook. 

A second distinct memory is my first glimpse of Mr. Liv- 
ingston as he lay in a darkened upper chamber, looking to me 
more like a livid, saffron-colored corpse than like any living 
being. The heavy wooden shutters at the windows were barred, 
but not so closely but that they admitted sufficient rays of 


MR. LA FORCE MAKES AN INSINUATION 163 


the morning sun, to show the deathlike figure quite distinctly 
on its shrouded bed, and at the first glance, I had to turn 
hastily to the window for a breath of air to relieve the sud- 
den sense of faintness that came near unmanning me at the 
sight. The house was a fine, large one, the first one on the 
Broadway, with nothing but a small green park between it 
and the beautiful bay, up which we had sailed, and nothing to 
hinder the entrance of the fresh breezes from the sea, so 
that I soon overcame my faintness, and Kemble and Irving, 
who were engaged in receiving reports and instructions from 
two other young men who were going off duty, did not even no- 
tice it, I think. 

As I said before, I have only hazy memories of those two 
days — of nauseous duties that at first it was difficult for me to 
school myself to perform, but that grew easier with each repeti- 
tion until I began to feel toward my patient something of the 
tenderness I think a mother must feel toward her helpless 
child. I remember that we were never all three of us in the 
sick chamber at a time after our first entrance there in the 
morning. There was a big room downstairs with a small room 
adjoining, in which, on a spirit lamp, a kettle with a concoc- 
tion was kept continuously boiling, so that the room was filled 
with the fumes of vinegar and garlic and gunpowder smoke 
from grains of powder thrown at intervals on the flame. In 
this room we left the clothes we had worn from Liberty Hall 
and got into those we were to wear while nursing. In the 
larger room, which was a pleasantly furnished library, we took 
turns at resting through the day and night, for our labors 
were arduous while we were on duty, and either Kemble or 
Irving was being continually called out to see some new pa- 
tient and make arrangements for his proper care. Indeed, 
Kemble seemed to be the head of this bureau of volunteer nurses, 
and he was so frequently called into consultation by friends of 
the sick or by physicians that I wondered how they had man- 
aged heretofore without my aid, poor and unskillful as it must 
needs be. 

I have a dim remembrance, also, that in a pleasant dining- 


164 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


room across the hall we were comfortably cared for by an old 
colored cook whom the young men called “ Mammy/ 5 who gave 
us delicious things to eat, if I could judge from the look and 
the savory odor of them, for the experiences of the sick-cham- 
ber had set my stomach against eating and I could barely force 
a few mouthfuls down with the aid of some tine burgundy 
Mr. Kemble had brought from Liberty Hall. It seems that 
when Mayor Livingston was taken ill and his friends went to 
his cellars for wine — which is much used in this sickness — 
they found the cellars empty, as the good man had despoiled 
them in caring for the sick of the city. 

It is no wonder, then, that one of the points that stands out 
distinctly in my memory of those two days is that, late in the 
afternoon of the second day, this great man, for so I had come 
to regard him, whom I could see Irving and Kemble and good 
Dr. Mitchill had almost given up for dead, suddenly rallied 
from the collapse, which is the last and most fatal symptom of 
this dread disease, opened his eyes and smiled. I was alone 
with him. Both Kemble and Irving had been called impera- 
tively to a case a few doors away, and, believing that it was only 
now a matter of an hour or two with Mr. Livingston, they 
had left him in my care with a promise that one or the other 
would be back every few minutes. They had also left instruc- 
tions with me to keep up the soothing sponging with spirits of 
wine, and to continue at brief intervals to try to force a few 
drops of cognac or burgundy between the close-shut jaws. 

Perhaps because I was such an inexperienced nurse my zeal 
was the greater. I improvised a sling by which I suspended 
immediately beneath my patient’s nostrils a sponge saturated 
with aromatic vinegar, that he might be inhaling it without 
interrupting my sponging of him with the cooling spirits of 
wine. Every five minutes by the clock I renewed my efforts to 
force alternately cognac and burgundy between his lips, nor 
did I ever desist without being sure that a few drops at least 
had found lodgment there. It was after one of these attempts, 
more successful than the others, that he opened his eyes. He 


ME. LA FORCE MAKES AN INSINUATION 165 


seemed dazed or startled at sight of a strange face and in a 
hardly audible whisper, his lips scarce moving, so that I guessed 
at the words rather than heard them, he whispered, “ Who are 
you ? ” 

“Your nurse,” I answered quietly, for I did not think it 
wise to cause him even the small excitement the knowledge 
that I was his expected guest from England might occasion 
him. And inwardly trembling with excitement and my sense 
of responsibility, for he seemed to me like a man raised from 
the dead, I added, in as matter of fact a tone as I knew how 
to use, “ My instructions are that you are to drink a half 
glass of this burgundy; allow me, sir.” Whereupon I put my 
arm under his pillow and raised him so that he could drink 
more freely, and though he only drank a swallow or two, I 
thought I could detect a more natural color creeping into his 
face as I laid him down. He continued to look at me with 
that dazed expression for a minute; then he murmured just 
above his breath, “ Ah, an Englishman ! ” closed his eyes and 
seemed to drop to sleep. 

As for me, trembling with excitement, and determined he 
should not slip back again into that deathlike stupor, I re- 
doubled my exertions. I renewed the aromatic vinegar, I put 
ice into the spirits with which I sponged him and at intervals 
of only three minutes now I put between his lips a few drops 
of the wine or the cognac, which he did not refuse to take. 
And by the time Irving and Kemble had returned his eyes 
were open again and wearing a much more lifelike expression 
than at first. 

Their excitement was even greater than mine, though of 
course they showed no signs of it before their patient. They 
refused, now that there was a glimmering of hope, to leave 
him for any call, and all that night we three worked hard 
and when morning broke — I have learned that the gray dawn 
is a most blessed sight to a watcher by a sick-bed — when the 
morning broke and Dr. Mitchill came in on his early round, 
telling us afterward that he expected to find out patient gone. 


166 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


he found him in such a condition that he pronounced him out 
of danger, provided he continued to receive the most careful 
nursing. 

At eight o’clock we were to be relieved by the two young 
men we had found in charge, but instead of looking forward 
to this as a relief, I found that my patient and my duties in 
the sick-room had taken such hold on me that I was unwilling 
to give them up. I begged to be allowed to remain. I had a 
terrible fear that these two young men would not be as careful 
or as faithful as Kemble and Irving had been, and I wanted to 
assure myself that nothing was left undone that could hasten 
or help the cure so well begun. 

But I might as well talk to stone walls. Irving and Kem- 
ble and Dr. Mitchill were all three adamant. It was an iron 
rule, they said, which not even Kemble and Irving might break, 
though they would like much to stay through this day, at least, 
and watch Mr. Livingston’s recovery. They had implicit con- 
fidence, however, in the two who were to take their places and 
they arranged that regular tidings should reach them of the 
sick man’s progress. 

Most of the next two days are still dreamlike in my memory. 
We went from Mr. Livingston’s house out to Apthorpe Hall 
on the Bloomingdale Boad, where it had been arranged we were 
to spend the two days of rest, and the first evening we dined at 
Bichmond Hill with a large party of people. I have only a con- 
fused memory of that dinner, of much gay talk and laughter in 
which I was conscious of a struggle to play my part becomingly, 
and my remembrance of the next day is still more confused, but 
the evening that followed stands out clear cut, distinct, in 
memory’s gallery. 

We were invited to dinner at the Grange and half past three 
saw us on our way, galloping briskly along the beautiful high- 
road overlooking the majestic river. The day had turned off 
cool, so that we were not punishing our horses by our pace, 
and Kemble and Irving were keeping up a running comment 
on all they passed, so sparkling with gayety and wit as betrayed 
the exhilaration of their spirits. We had had good reports 


ME. LA FOECE MAKES AN INSINUATION 16 


Irom Mr. Livingston and the relief and joy at the thought of 
his recovery were no doubt responsible for part of our excite- 
ment, but I had an idea that Kemble’s was due partly to the 
thought of meeting Miss Livingston, and I wondered if the 
prospect of meeting Mademoiselle Desloge could have anything 
to do with Irving’s. I knew well why my heart was pounding 
as heavily as my head, which all day had been throbbing with 
a dull pain — would she be there, or was she still at Liberty 
Hall? 

She was there and the evening would have been one of un- 
alloyed pleasure save for the fact that Mr. La Force was there 
also. I might not have minded that so much — though I 
found myself detesting the man more heartily with every glance 
from his black-rimmed eyes — but I might not have minded 
his mere presence if he had not chosen to devote himself most 
pointedly to Mademoiselle Desloge, and if she had not received 
his attentions as if she liked them, or so I thought. I think 
Mr. Irving did not like having the beauty engrossed by Mr. 
La Force, for he was constantly breaking into their conversa- 
tion and by dint of his gay good humor and sparkling wit 
contrived to win a goodly share of her smiles for himself; but, 
between the two, I was left no chance at all. 

Perhaps Miss Livingston divined my discomfiture ; she 
strolled up beside me when, after dinner out under the trees, 
I happened to be left to myself for a moment, Mrs. Hamilton, 
with whom I had been talking, having been called off by Mr. 
Troup to settle a friendly dispute between him and Mr. Gouver- 
neur Morris, for they also were of the party. 

“Your friend Mr. La Force seems to be making an impres- 
sion,” she said. 

“ Why my ‘ friend ’ ? ” 

“ Have you not been rendering him a service ? And is not 
that a proof of friendship ? ” 

“ The service was rendered Mr. Livingston, not Mr. La 
Fo:rce.” 

“ I am afraid he is boring Mademoiselle Desloge.” 

“ She does not look bored.” 


168 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ Oh, she is too courteous to betray her ennui and — she is 
a Frenchwoman, and a very beautiful one; every man falls in 
love with her.” 

“ He is a Frenchman, and a very handsome one — or so I 
understand he is regarded.” 

“ He is certainly handsome, but you know mere beauty does 
not carry so much weight with our sex as with yours.” 

“No? I had not so heard. You astonish me and you re- 
lieve me greatly.” 

My tone was purposely cynical, but it was true that I was 
relieved — a little. 

“We are tremendously relieved to see you safe back from 
your two days’ nursing. Miss Desloge and I have fumed and 
fretted over your obstinacy. Not but what we have also been 
immensely proud of you, and Mr. Kemble tells me you took 
to the nursing as if you were born to it, and you promise to 
prove one of their most valuable assistants. But I told Mr. 
Kemble not to permit you to go back again; and now I beg 
of you, Sir Lionel, do not be so foolhardy — think of your 
father ! ” 

Her words were very pleasant to hear. I hoped and I be- 
lieved that she would carry Mr. Kemble’s good report of me to 
Mademoiselle Desloge, and if Mademoiselle had “ fumed and 
fretted ” she must care a little. 

“ Thank you, Miss Livingston,” I said, “ for caring whether 
I go near the fever or stay away. You are very kind to a 
stranger in a strange land. But why do you not use your in- 
fluence with Mr. Kemble to keep him away also ? ” 

“ My influence with Mr. Kemble ! ” she scoffed ; “ I have 
none. And if he chooses to throw away his life, it is his own 
concern.” 

She turned away as she spoke, but not before I saw a bright 
flush suffuse her face, and I was sorry I had spoken as I did. 
The blush surprised me — I had not supposed she really cared. 
But she only took two or three steps, with her head well up 
in the air, when she turned and came back, speaking in a low 
tone, hurriedly, but with great earnestness : 


ME. LA FORCE MAKES AN INSINUATION 169 


“ Sir Lionel, do not think that I do not greatly admire and 
honor all you young men for the course you are pursuing; I 
would not have Mr. Kemble or any friend of mine act differ- 
ently, and I would gladly do as they are doing if it were pos- 
sible, and if my family would let me. Only, we all feel a 
little sense of responsibility about you since you are a stranger 
here, and we feel that we owe it to your father to take care 
of you.” 

I had never seen Miss Livingston in so amiable a mood, 
and I had never liked her so well nor felt so little anxiety for 
Miss Desloge in her hands. 

The evening had turned cool and Mrs. Hamilton came up 
at this moment and drove us all peremptorily into the house, 
where we found a cheery fire blazing in the wide chimney of the 
long living-room whose windows on one side looked to the west. 

“You must see the sunset from indoors to-night,” she said, 
“ for these cool August evenings are dangerous in fever times.” 

I had felt a sudden chill out under the trees, and seeing no 
chance to look at the sunset with Miss Desloge, seated on a 
deep window seat, Mr. La Force on one side of her and Mr. 
Irving on the other, I drew up to the fire, grateful for its 
warmth, and Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Troup and Mr. Morris, 
gathering around the pleasant blaze, immediately began to ply 
me with questions as to Mr. Livingston’s condition and my ex- 
periences since coming to America; thus making me a center 
of attention which it pleased my vanity Miss Desloge should 
be witness of. Nothing, I have discovered, is more flattering 
to a young man than the attentions of older men, and if they 
be also men of note, then is the flattery the more potent. Not 
even the attentions of young and beautiful women can so touch 
his vanity. 

They were deeply interested in what I told them of Mr. 
Livingston, and no doubt I glowed in the telling, for I was 
naturally a hero-worshiper in those days, and Mr. Livingston 
was a real hero in my eyes. They laughed over my account 
of our exploits at Liberty Hall, Mr. Troup with such a genial 
guffaw that I saw out of the corner of my eye that Miss Desloge 


170 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


looked up quickly and, for a full minute seemed deeply inter- 
ested in our group by the fire. Then, suddenly, Mr. Hamilton 
made a swift turn in the conversation. 

“ So the King has recalled Pitt to the helm ? ” he said» 
“ Are you a Tory, Sir Lionel ? ” 

“ My family has been Tory always,” I answered, “ but I am 
a Foxite Whig. Only, I am first and foremost an admirer of 
Mr. Pitt.” 

“ He is the greatest of living statesmen,” said Mr. Hamilton 
fervently. 

“ With one exception, Alex,” said Mr. Morris, laying his 
arm affectionately over Hamilton’s shoulder. Morris was a 
good half head the taller. 

“ Nonsense!” exclaimed Hamilton impatiently. "I am not 
in Mr. Pitt’s class.” 

“ I heard him call you by the same title you have applied 
to him, sir, ‘ the greatest of living statesmen,’ only the week 
before I left home,” I said respectfully. 

“ You know Pitt?” demanded Mr. Hamilton eagerly, ignor- 
ing the compliment, and Troup and Morris exclaimed in the 
same breath: 

“ He said that of our Hamilton ! ” and Morris added, “ I 
have always held him in the highest admiration; your report 
of him has augmented it greatly.” 

“ But tell us about him,” demanded Hamilton, impatiently. 
He had flushed like a boy at the compliment of the great Pitt, 
but his modesty would not allow his friends to dwell on it. 
“ Where have you known him ? ” 

“He spent three days at Clover Combe with us and with 
my uncle just before I left home.” 

“With your uncle! Then all your talk must have been of 
war. I rather wonder that a young fellow like you could tear 
himself away from home at such a time. America must seem 
tame indeed by comparison.” 

I felt myself flush, though I was quite sure no imputation 
was intended. 


ME. LA FOECE MAKES AN INSINUATION 171 


“ I would not have left home, sir, if I had been allowed to 
stay. My uncle thought me too young to enter the army for 
a year or two. He has promised me a company on my return 
and I am in the meanwhile to get myself in readiness for it 
by a life of adventure in America.” 

I did not mean to show that my pride was touched, but 
perhaps I did. I could see that Mademoiselle Desloge was 
listening to me and Mr. Hamilton hastened to deprecate any 
intention of criticising me. 

“Your friends were exactly right. Sir Lionel,” he said. 
“You are entirely too young. I am sorry you should have 
happened upon the scourge of yellow fever to begin your ad- 
ventures, but certainly your friends would be proud of the way 
you have acquitted yourself in a trying ordeal. You are prov- 
ing yourself of the metal to make a good soldier.” 

I was saved from the embarrassment of replying to this fine 
speech by Hamilton’s eagerness to hear more of Mr. Pitt. 

“But tell me, please,” he went on quickly, “what is the 
condition of Mr. Pitt’s health ? We had heard, here in 
America, that he was far from well.” 

“And I believe you have heard correctly, sir,” I answered, 
“if I can judge from his looks. He looks to me like a man 
far gone in a phthisic. But the state of his health does not 
in the least interfere with the fire and energy of his spirit. 
I heard my father say if they would only give him Fox in his 
cabinet he would pull through all right and pull the country 
through with him.” 

“ But they surely will ? ” Mr. Hamilton demanded. 

“My father thinks it doubtful, sir. The old King is bit- 
terly opposed to all Whigs, but most of all to Charles Fox.” 

“ Oh, the folly of kings ! And of all governments, for that 
matter,” groaned Mr. Ilamilton. And then, as if the topic 
had suggested it, though I could not see the connection, he 
turned quickly to Mr. Morris : 

“ Do you think the Vice-president stands any chance for the 
nomination to the presidency ? ” 


172 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ None in the least/’ answered Mr. Morris curtly. “ Do you 
think he is cherishing any hopes in that direction? ” 

“ I am sure of it,” replied Hamilton grimly. “ But whom 
the gods would destroy, fortunately, they first make mad.” 

And then he turned away and the three older men entered 
into a close and confidential conversation which probably was 
not intended for me to hear and to which I did not listen, but 
I could not help overhearing an occasional word such as “ Loui- 
siana,” “ Western empire,” “ boundless ambition,” “ Blenner- 
hassett,” “ General Wilkinson”; words which had little mean- 
ing for me then, but that I was able to interpret later by the 
light of events. 

In the meantime Mrs. Hamilton had taken her seat at the 
tea-table, drawn up in the warm chimney nook. A black boy 
had just deposited upon the table a massive silver tray bearing 
a steaming urn of fragrant coffee and a collection of fragile 
porcelain cups. She called me to her assistance and I thought 
I saw my chance for a word with Miss Desloge. I dutifully 
handed a cup to Miss Livingston and one to Miss Angelica 
Hamilton — whom Miss Livingston kept close at her side with 
the air of using her as a protection against Mr. Kemble, who 
made a third in their little group — and then I bore one to 
the deep window-seat where Miss Desloge sat with her two 
admirers — for so they seemed to declare themselves. I had 
brought with me my own cup also, and I said to the two men 
as I came up : 

“ Mrs. Hamilton bids me invite you to her coffee-table, gen- 
tlemen.” 

Mr. Irving sprang up with alacrity at my word, and Mr. La 
Force more slowly, as if he had half a mind to forego his 
coffee rather than relinquish his seat by Miss Desloge. But 
Mr. Irving seized him by the arm. 

“ Come, La Force ! ” he said briskly. “ We can’t let an 
Englishman outdo us in waiting on the ladies,” and dragged 
him off to Mrs. Hamilton and kept him there, for which I was 
devoutly thankful. 


ME. LA FORCE MAKES AN INSINUATION 173 


“ Are you afraid of me ? ” I asked, as I slipped into Mr. La 
Force’s seat. 

The sun was setting under a heavy bank of slate blue clouds, 
betokening a stormy morrow, I thought, but at this moment 
it shot a sheaf of golden arrows in level lines straight from 
under the lower rim of the threatening bank. Not every 
beautiful woman could have borne that intense illumination, 
without suffering in her beauty, but its only effect on Miss 
Desloge was to turn the waving masses of her red-bronze hair 
to gold, to tint the rounded contour of her throat and cheek 
with the transparent rose and pearl of the shell, to make those 
wonderful brown eyes glow with such lambent flames that I 
could hardly have borne to look into them, save that as she 
looked up at me to answer my question there was a sweeter 
light in them than I had ever seen there before. 

“ To fear is to hate, and I do not hate you,” she said with 
her twinkling glance. And then she added softly — “ Not 
afraid of you but for you, Sir Lionel.” 

What wonder that my head whirled ! She went on in a 
tone of entreaty that I liked well to hear though I had no 
intention of heeding: 

“ Do not go back. Sir Lionel. For your father’s sake ; for 
all our sakes.” 

“You make it hard for me, Miss Desloge,” I stammered, 
“ for I must go back.” 

“ But you have proven your courage and your good will. 
Is not that enough? Mr. Irving says Mayor Livingston will 
owe his life to you, if he lives ; that it is your untiring devotion 
and skill that have saved him. You have won your laurels; 
rest on them.” 

“It is not fame that calls, Miss Desloge, but duty,” I ob- 
jected. 

“ These others owe a duty to their friends and their country- 
men, I grant, but not you,” she urged. “Your duty is to 
your father and — to those who love you.” 

These last words were said in such a softly dropping voice 


174 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


— could she possibly mean she was one who loved me ? I was 
mad to think such thoughts, but the long lashes were lying 
on her cheek and her color was coming and going, a palpitating 
rose. I had to steel my heart against her. 

“ Those who love me, Miss Desloge,” I said — the effort I 
made to resist her pleading made me speak sternly — “ and my 
father most of all, would be ashamed of me and rightly despise 
me if I proved myself a coward.” 

There was a sudden flash of her eyes into mine. I could 
not be mistaken; that lightning glance spoke, louder than 
words, of generous admiration and approval. Could it be she 
had been only testing me in trying to persuade me to relinquish 
my duty? But in a moment the glowing look had vanished; 
the eyes were cold and hard. 

“Very well, Sir Lionel, you will do as you think best, of 
course, regardless of the wishes of your friends.” 

“ Mademoiselle, will you be good enough to get me my cash- 
mere long shawl ? My shoulders are cold.” 

I could not believe that the imperious command, carelessly 
and arrogantly uttered, could come from the Miss Livingston 
who had shown herself in such an amiable light earlier in the 
evening. My blood boiled at her tone and I saw Kemble re- 
gard her curiously. Mademoiselle Desloge had started up 
nervously at the first sound of Miss Livingston’s voice, but I 
would not look at her. 

“ I will get your shawl, Miss Livingston. Pray tell me 
where it is,” I demanded, striding up to her with, no doubt, 
something of the belligerence I was feeling betrayed in my 
voice and stride. 

“ Oh, la, no ! Sir Lionel,” she laughed. “ ’T would be vastly 
improper for you to invade the sanctity of a lady’s chamber. 
Miss Desloge will get it.” 

In fact, Miss Desloge, moving swiftly, was already out of 
the room, leaving a most embarrassed group behind her. Mr. 
Kemble’s face was deeply flushed; Mr. Irving was openly in- 
dignant; a light sneer curled Mr. La Force’s lips, and I can 
only say, for myself, that, if I looked as I felt, no thunder- 


ME. LA FOECE MAKES AN INSINUATION 175 


cloud could be blacker. The older men and Mrs. Hamilton 
had apparently neither heard nor seen, but Miss Angelica was 
drooping beside Miss Livingston like a white lily crushed with 
shame. 

Perhaps with a courteous idea of relieving the embarrass- 
ment, Mr. La Force turned to me : 

“ I hope you are enjoying your nursing, Sir Lionel?.” 

“I like it better than a clerk’s duties, I believe, Mr. La 
Force,” I responded, not willing to be outdone by a Frenchman 
in his efforts to save the situation. “ How are affairs at the 
office?” 

Mr. La Force was visibly embarrassed and hesitating, a man- 
ner which I came to believe, later, was entirely assumed. He 
cleared his throat before he answered in a voice only slightly 
raised, but of so penetrating a quality that it caught the atten- 
tion of the three older men, who stopped their discussion for a 
moment and turned to listen : 

“Not quite as well as I could wish, Sir Lionel. I have 
come upon an inexplicable complication in the last day or two, 
but I have no doubt a further investigation will explain it 
satisfactorily.” 

These Yankees think us Englishmen slow of comprehension. 
Perhaps we are. I thought it very extraordinary that Mr. La 
Force should mention his office troubles in such a company, 
but it was not until many days afterward that it struck me 
that his speech could have any personal significance for me. 


XY 


OH THE GREAT TIDAL RIVER 

I HAD not been mistaken when I thought that low-lying 
bank of cloud in the west portended storm, but I had not 
looked for it to come so soon. We were drenched to the skin 
before we reached the Apthorpe Mansion on the Bloomingdale 
Boad, by one of those semi-tropical storms that I had already 
learned were peculiar to the country. It was as brief as it 
was violent and the stars were shining when we rode in under 
the Apthorpe trees, but the mischief was done, and if I had 
had any chance before of escaping the fever, I had none now. 

Our friends of Apthorpe kindled great fires in the kitchen 
to dry our clothing while we went to bed, for we had come 
direct from Mr. Livingston’s where we had no change of outer- 
garments, it being considered inadvisable to expose any more 
of our wearing apparel than necessary to the infection. Our 
coats were still a little damp when we got into them the next 
morning, which seemed to have no effect on Irving and Kemble, 
and ordinarily would have mattered not at all to me. But 
there was a cool wind blowing up the river and off the bay 
as we galloped through the morning air and by the time we 
had changed once more into our nursing garments in the little 
disinfecting room at Mr. Livingston’s, every bone in my body 
was aching miserably, my head was throbbing violently, and 
my flesh was burning. 

“ ’Tis only a cold I have taken,” I said to myself, but hardly 
had we entered Mr. Livingston’s chamber and expressed our 
congratulations to our patient — for he was a very different 
looking man from the one we had left two days before — when 
he turned to Mr. Kemble: 


176 


ON THE GREAT TIDAL RIVER 


177 


€< That young Englishman has the fever, Kemble,” he ex- 
claimed peremptorily. “ Put him to bed at once.” 

There was no use disclaiming or resisting. One horrified 
glance from Kemble and Irving and I was hustled into bed, 
by Mr. Livingston’s direction, in a chamber across the hall 
from his own, and, having once submitted to their will, I 
sank so rapidly into apathy and stupor that I cared not what 
became of me. 

For the next ten days I was unconscious most of the time, 
but it was an unconsciousness haunted by dreams. One con- 
stantly recurring vision I could have sworn at times was no 
dream, but a vivid reality. It was of an angel in white who 
bathed my face and hands with a cooling preparation; who 
held an aromatic sponge to my nostrils; who coaxed wine be- 
tween my lips; who made cooling breezes play about my tem- 
ples with a great fan she held in her hand ; who was constantly 
rendering me the services I had rendered Mr. Livingston. 
And this angel in white wore a halo of red-gold hair and looked 
at me with the wine-brown eyes of Miss Desloge. I knew it 
was the delirium of fever, but I liked my hallucinations and 
clung to them. 

It seems that, from the first, I developed the alarming symp- 
toms that usually come later in the disease, and that my friends 
had little hope of my recovery; but they did not know the 
Marchmont constitution. It was the third day of September 
that I went to bed in Mr. Livingston’s house, and on the 
fifteenth, I was being driven slowly up Broadway and out Cort- 
landt Street to a slip at its foot where lay the Livingston 
sloop, in which Miss Livingston had come down from Clermont 
three weeks before. Mr. Livingston was sitting beside me and, 
since a black frost had descended upon the city a week before, 
sent early as a special providence, all men thought, there would 
be no new cases and therefore no longer any pressing need 
for the services of my friends, Kemble and Irving, who were 
facing us in the coach. We were all four to make the trip 
together, as I knew; what I did not know and was puzzling 
my brain about quite unnecessarily, since I was sure to find 
12 


178 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


out very soon, was whether Miss Livingston and Miss Desloge 
were also to be of the party. My luggage and my horse, 
Saladin, had been sent aboard the night before, and it was not 
yet seven o’clock when we stepped on the deck of the big 
sloop, Clermont , with the crew already tugging at the great 
mainsail, letting it out reef by reef, and bustling about the 
many other preparations pertaining to departure. It had been 
necessary to make this early start to take advantage of the tide, 
hoping that we might run as far as West Point on our first 
day’s trip should we find favoring winds. 

I was still weak with the great weakness that always follows 
this fever, and my head swam and : \j limbs trembled under 
me, as Miss Livingston and Miss Desloge came forward to 
meet us with smiles of welcome. Miss Desloge was all in white, 
for the morning was warm, and at my first glance into her 
eyes where anxiety and relief were almost equally portrayed, 
a conviction took possession of me not to be dislodged by any 
process of reasoning, that the angel in white who had appeared to 
me in my delirium had not been one of the wild visions of fever. 

An awning had been stretched over a couch piled with pil- 
lows and robes on the forward deck, and here Miss Livingston 
and Miss Desloge insisted on installing me at once with the 
pretty imperiousness maidens know how to use toward an in- 
valid, and that no man can resist. And since breakfast had 
been an early meal and a hurried one for all of us, a negro 
steward drew up a table near my couch and served us a second 
breakfast, as the great sail filled to the southerly breeze and 
we slowly floated out into mid-stream and the boat turned its 
nose up the river. The soft air and the enticing odors, wafted 
through the open door of the little galley, put a keen edge on 
an appetite that was growing rapidly from day to day, but the 
savory odors of the delicious-looking breakfast presently set 
forth on the little table were all of it I was permitted to in- 
dulge in. A bowl of mutton broth spiced with a dash of 
ratafia was my breakfast, and no amount of grumbling could 
persuade my stony-hearted guardians to grant me even so much 
else as a bit of broiled bacon. 


ON THE GREAT TIDAL RIVER 


179 


Half an hour after breakfast I had my chance, when Kemble 
and Irving had gone to take a hand at the sailing — a sport 
in which they were past masters — and Miss Livingston had 
gone to look after her Uncle Edward, who insisted stoutly he 
was no longer an invalid, but whom she persisted as stoutly 
in coddling as one. 

We were just passing the Grange. We could see its white- 
pillared porch high on the bluffs a half mile back from the 
river. 

“Miss Desloge,” I said sternly, “did you ever leave the 
Grange during your stay there and go down into the infected 
district of the city ? ” 

She flushed quickly at the suddenness of my attack, but she 
answered coldly: 

“ ’T is a strange question, Sir Lionel ; why do you ask it ? ” 

She was waving a great fan slowly to make more air, for 
the breeze, only a light one at best, was behind us, and the 
great sail kept most of it from reaching us, and the day was 
already beginning to grow sultry. She did not cease its slow 
waving back and forth as she spoke. I answered her : 

“ Because in my fever dreams I saw, not once but many 
times, just such a vision as I see beside me now, waving a great 
fan, like that one you hold in your hand.” 

“I have heard that people have many strange illusions in 
the delirium of fever,” she answered calmly, but her color deep- 
ening steadily. 

“ I believe this one to have been no vision due to delirium, 
Miss Desloge, no ‘ baseless fabric 9 of a dream; but I cannot 
be sure whether that belief fills me more with joy or alarm. 
You had no right to expose yourself to infection.” 

“ I have not admitted and I never will admit that I have 
so exposed myself. Sir Lionel,” she protested with some im- 
patience. 

“You do not need to admit it,” I persisted. “You have 
only to deny it — I will never doubt your word.” 

She sprang to her feet. 

“ I think I hear Miss Livingston calling me. I must go and 


180 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


see what she wants,” she exclaimed hurriedly, looking about 
her as if seeking the means of flight. 

But I caught the hand that held the fan; it clattered to 
the deck, and she struggled to release her hand that she might 
pick it up again. 

“ Never mind the fan, Miss Desloge,” I commanded. “ Sit 
down, please. Miss Livingston is not calling, and if she were 
it does not become you to be so humbly at any arrogant woman’s 
beck and nod.” 

She sat down reluctantly, but in a flash she was looking up 
at me with a great show of mock humility and that twinkle 
in her eyes that haunted me with such an elusive sense of 
having known it before. 

“ I suppose it becomes me better, my Lord, to be at the 
beck and nod of an arrogant man?” she asked saucily. 

“ Much better,” I smiled. “ Though I deny the insinuation. 
I am not arrogant.” 

“ Indeed? Would you call it meekness?” 

“ Neither am I meek. But I am a sick man and ought not 
to be crossed. Did you, or did you not visit me in my illness 
at Mr. Livingston’s house ? ” I demanded. 

She paled a little at my point-blank question, but I could 
see it was with anger. She swept quickly to her feet again 
before I could again prevent, and spoke haughtily : 

“No, you are neither arrogant nor meek, Sir Lionel, you 
are only rude.” 

And giving me chance neither to explain nor to apologize, 
she vanished behind the great boom of the mainsail, leaving 
me to chew the cud of reflections that were somewhat bitter in 
the after-taste, but that discovered, also, a trace of sweetness 
in their tang. 

She did not deny it! She could not deny it. Then she 
had risked her life to care for me; and I believed I owed my 
life to her care. It would be an easy matter to prove her 
presence in my sick chamber by simply asking Mr. Irving, 
Mr. Kemble or Mr. Livingston, or even Miss Livingston; she 


ON THE GEEAT TIDAL EIYEE 


181 


could not possibly have been there without the knowledge and 
connivance of all four. But a strong reluctance kept me from 
broaching the topic; I had rather they would think I did not 
suspect her presence, that I had been, through all those days, 
as wholly unconscious as I seemed. 

Miss Desloge’s flight, so far from daunting me, had given 
me a sense of triumph. If I could so easily put her to flight 
it meant she was afraid of me, and — what did that mean? 
And though I did not get another chance to speak to her for 
some hours, and though I could see her leaning over the railing 
with Mr. Irving, enjoying with him the beauty of the great 
river which now began to be wonderful, indeed, and which I 
longed to enjoy with a sympathetic soul such as I was sure she 
would prove, yet I bided my time, hoping I appeared sufficiently 
responsive to Miss Livingston’s kind efforts at interesting and 
amusing me. 

For, though Miss Desloge did not come near me, Miss 
Livingston sat beside me and spared no effort for my enter- 
tainment, and having my share, I suppose, of the conceit com- 
mon to all young men, I began to wonder if it could be possible 
that Miss Livingston was trying to win my regards for herself, 
and if I could account, on that hypothesis, for her manner 
toward Miss Desloge — mortifying her and treating her as a 
menial in my presence, and at every opportunity sending her 
away and taking her place at my side. 

I did not enjoy the thought, but perhaps I was not so much 
to blame for entertaining it, for Mr. Kemble, who had given 
many proofs of his interest in Miss Livingston, was constantly 
hovering near us, trying to attract a little of her attention for 
himself, and was as constantly being snubbed and sent about 
his business. 

I suppose I grew restive finally, for Miss Livingston called 
sharply to Miss Desloge: 

“ Mademoiselle, come here, if you please, and rearrange Sir 
Lionel’s pillows, and see if you can make him more comfort- 
able.” 


182 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


Miss Desloge had started forward at Miss Livingston’s first 
words, but at the last she stood stock still, the spirit of mutiny 
flashing from her dark eyes, and a wave of crimson deluging 
her face. Mr. Irving saw her embarrassment and sprang gal- 
lantly to the rescue. 

“ Let me do it. Miss Livingston,” he exclaimed ; “ I know 
all about arranging pillows; I am an accomplished nurse, you 
know.” 

He was about to suit his action to his words, but I stopped 
him. I know not what perverse spirit had taken possession of 
me. By my own criterion of a gentleman’s conduct I should 
have sympathized with Miss Desloge, been more than ready to 
save her any mortification and been hotly indignant with Miss 
Livingston for inflicting it upon her. I was experiencing, in 
place of these very proper emotions, a reprehensible sense of 
elation. I was keenly grateful to Miss Livingston for giving 
me this chance to domineer a little over Miss Desloge, as I 
fully intended to do. In fact, I was feeling quite like the 
little bully I used to sometimes be, in my childhood, toward 
Eosie Dufour. Not that I often got the better of Eosie; 
she knew how to hold her own, and as a rule returned me as 
good as I sent — if not better. 

Now it struck me as rather odd that I should feel this way 
toward Miss Desloge; I never had the slightest feeling of the 
kind toward Peggy. Was it Miss Desloge’s little spirit of re- 
sistance and of mutiny that kindled the desire in me to subdue 
it? Or was it the knowledge that she had put herself in my 
power by showing that she cared for me enough to risk her 
life in nursing me through an infectious fever? If it was the 
last, I must indeed be a bully at heart. But whatever had 
roused the feeling, I was enjoying it, and so I checked Mr. 
Irving’s impulse. 

“ Don’t you dare to touch one of my pillows, Jonathan ! ” 
I exclaimed peremptorily. “ Miss Desloge, will you be so good 
as to carry out Miss Livingston’s directions ? ” 

She did not move, but glanced appealingly at Miss Living- 
ston. It seemed to me those soft brown eyes could melt a 


ON THE GREAT TIDAL RIVER 


183 


heart of stone, with that look in them. They melted neither 
Miss Livingston’s nor mine, however, though I had to look 
quickly away to preserve mine from becoming the softest kind 
of gruel. 

“ Miss Livingston,” I said, “ perhaps you will be so kind as 
to repeat your instructions. I think Miss Desloge did not quite 
understand them.” 

Whereupon Miss Livingston repeated them with such extreme 
imperiousness that I winced a little, though I was determined 
to go through with my part. Miss Desloge had no choice but 
to obey. She moved slowly forward, but by the time she had 
reached my couch she seemed to have decided upon the man- 
ner in which she would obey, since obey she must. She tossed 
her head disdainfully, seized the pillows with no tender hand, 
almost with the effect of jerking them from under my head; 
gave them each one a vindictive little punch and as roughly 
as was possible to her to do anything, rearranged them under 
my head and shoulders. 

I caught Mr. Irving’s eye. He had inclined to be much 
offended with me, I think, for what he regarded as my dis- 
courtesy to Miss Desloge, but as I caught his eye I gave him 
a knowing wink and smile. He saw that it was all a play 
and his brow cleared. 

“ There ! Sir Lionel, I hope you are more comfortable ! ” 
snapped Miss Desloge, as she gave my pillows one last fierce 
punch. 

I sighed ecstatically. 

“ Oh, delicious ! ” I murmured ; “ I never had pillows so 
skillfully and so tenderly arranged before. Perhaps, since you 
have been so good, you will be still better and sit beside me 
and fan me while Mr. Irving tells us about these wonderful 
shores we are passing.” 

She could not keep the corners of her beautiful scarlet lips 
from dimpling into a little smile, nor prevent that delightful 
twinkle, that I was beginning to watch for like the face of an 
old friend, from peeping roguishly out of her eyes. She took 
her seat beside me demurely and picked up the great fan from 


184 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


the foot of the conch, while Mr. Irving drew up a stool to my 
other side. 

“ Oh, la, Mr. Kemble, let us go for a stroll," said Miss 
Livingston, rising as she spoke. “ Mr. Irving is daft on the 
Hudson. He is stuffed with legends of Sleepy Hollow and 
the Dunderberg. He says he is going to write a book about 
them some day, but we have heard him tell them so often I 
had rather not hear them again until I read them in his 
book." 

I thought she was probably a little miffed at my evident 
determination to keep Miss Desloge beside me, but I blush 
now when I think of the conceit of me. I have no doubt she 
was as delighted to get off alone with Mr. Kemble as he was 
to have her to himself for a while, though she did not betray 
her delight as undisguisedly as he. 

Miss Livingston had pointed out Port Washington and across 
the river from it Fort Lee, just at the beginning of a great 
wall of rock rising several hundred feet above us, sheer and 
straight as the side of a house. We had been for an hour 
or more sailing by the mighty wall and still there seemed no 
end to it. It filled me with awe to look up at it. 

“ The Titans have been at work here, Mr. Irving," I said, as 
he drew up his stool beside me. 

Mr. Irving fell into my mood at once, and with all the 
pride of a showman descanted on the wonders of the “ Great 
Chip Rock," as he called it. We were running close in under 
it now and since the day was wearing on to noon and the heat 
had waxed with the hours, we found the shadow of the great 
rock a pleasant relief from the hot glare of the waters. Irving 
had just pointed out to me a projecting point on the great 
wall where a pair of lovers had suddenly and mysteriously dis- 
appeared from the eyes of their friends not thirty feet away, 
never to be seen or heard of again, when the black steward 
bustled up with preparations for another meal, and Miss Liv- 
ingston, her uncle and Mr. Kemble hearing or seeing or smell- 
ing the delightful news — for in a long day on the water 
nothing can be a pleasanter means of beguilement than frequent 


ON THE GBEAT TIDAL EIYEE 


185 


little meals — Mr. Irving’s stories were put an end to for a 
while. 

And this time, much to my delight, I was allowed some- 
thing more substantial than a bowl of broth. A grilled bone, 
and a bit of hot buttered toast with a glass of burgundy made 
a more substantial meal than I had yet been permitted, and 
when, as a dessert, I was given a slice of a melon of such 
rich and luscious flavor as I had never before tasted, I felt 
that I was far on the high road to complete recovery, though, 
since Miss Livingston ordered Miss Desloge to carve my bone 
into extremely small mouthfuls, and to feed them to me, I 
began to think I did not want to get well too quickly — I 
would miss the pleasant services of my nurse. To be sure, 
Miss Desloge still maintained her air of acting under compul- 
sion, as she malignantly speared each piece of mutton with her 
fork and fiercely presented it to my lips, but she was withal 
so dainty and so dexterors in the doing of it, and I was so 
sure her fierceness was only assumed, that I enjoyed it better 
than if it had been done with an air of tenderness, since there 
were others there to see. 

And while we were still at the table, we left the great wall 
of rock behind us and came out into a wide lake with high 
hills on the left bank and on the right, picturesque valleys and 
hanging woods, and sparkling streams and sloping meadows, 
and orchards laden with ruddy apples, and hamlets and vil- 
lages, and farmhouses with great barns bursting with hay, and 
sleek cattle and fat horses in the pastures. It was a homely 
picture of rural comfort and boundless prosperity, and I 
thought it as fair a landscape and a richer setting than any 
I had ever seen in Old England. When I said so to Mr. Irving 
his eye kindled : 

“ ’T is the landscape I love best of all ! ” he exclaimed en- 
thusiastically. “ I have spent much of my boyhood hunting 
those woods and fishing those streams and some day, please 
God, I shall have a home in one of those valleys with its lawn 
sloping down to the river I love.” 

Then he told me the little village we were just passing was 


186 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


called Tarrytown, and the Dutch housewives had named it so 
because their husbands tarried late on Saturday nights in Van 
Tassel’s tavern over their pipes and ale. There, in a little 
cleft between two hills, where we caught a glimpse of a square 
church tower, he pointed out Sleepy Hollow, the oldest settle- 
ment in that part of the country; and he had some blood- 
curdling tales to tell us of a headless horseman who haunted 
the Hollow and the little churchyard — or at least they would 
have been blood-curdling but that everything young Irving said 
was so seasoned with a lively wit that we laughed where we 
should have shuddered. 

He pointed out the spot, also, where the gallant young Andre 
was captured, and it pleased me much that he used neither the 
levity with which he had told the tale of the Headless Horse- 
man, nor the veiled pride that might have been expected in 
speaking of a foeman. I was grateful, since at home we 
younger men had made a hero of the unfortunate Andre and 
I could ill have borne to hear him lightly spoken of. Instead, 
Mr. Irving said that there had been much sympathy for Andre’s 
fate in America, and he believed, if it had been possible, Wash- 
ington would have pardoned him ; while for Arnold, the 
traitor, there was only horror and detestation throughout the 
land. 

It was years after that I read the tale of the Headless Horse- 
man in print, and while with the rest of my countrymen I 
admired the great writer extravagantly, and eagerly devoured 
all he wrote as soon as it appeared in print, I think this story 
will always remain a special favorite with me; for I came to 
know the Headless Horseman’s country well before I left 
America, and Mr. Irving himself told me that he believed it 
was our recalling together the old tales and the old times, 
when he was visiting me at Clover Combe Court, that was the 
occasion of his writing the tale. For it was immediately on 
his return to London from that visit, walking across London 
Bridge one night, that it occurred to him to put the Headless 
Horseman into the love affairs of Katrina Van Tassel, Marcus 
Van Brunt and Ichabod Crane, and so weave a tale of Sleepy 


0]ST THE GREAT TIDAL RIVER 


187 


Hollow. And no sooner had the idea taken possession of him 
than he hurried home and began to write, and in thirty-six 
hours he had finished one of the most charming tales he ever 
wrote or I ever read. 

I was proud enough of my acquaintance with Mr. Irving 
in those later years, for in my youth I had had some hanker- 
ings after a literary life myself, and had tried my hand at 
sonnets and a tale or two. But I had given them up long 
before Mr. Irving’s tale saw the light for the stirring incidents 
of a soldier’s career, and later for the quiet life of a country 
squire at Clover Combe Court, but I still felt occasional long- 
ings in that direction, and if I had concluded that the gift of 
the gods was not mine, it still pleased me greatly to number 
among my friends a man who could stir, with his gentle art, 
to laughter or to tears, as he willed. 

The tide and the breeze, what there was of it, had been 
with us through the morning, but the tide had turned a little 
after midday so that it was late afternoon by the time we 
had sailed through the Tappan Zee and through a second and 
a broader lake, and were entering the portals of the High- 
lands. It had been a long day and I was growing restless, 
and determined on trying my strength, which had been steadily 
gaining through the day. Miss Desloge had long since left 
her post of fanning, and Irving had soon followed her, but I 
could hear voices behind the big sail, and the cool breeze that 
had sprung up as we entered the shadow of the great hills put 
energy into my veins and enticed me to my feet, to find the 
voices. 

If I had been a ghost I could hardly have made more of a 
sensation as I turned the end of the boom and came suddenly 
upon them grouped on the wide after deck, gazing up at the 
mighty Dunderberg behind us, for this new breeze was head 
on and we were now tacking across and up the river straight 
for another great mountain that Irving called St. Anthony’s 
Hose. ‘ 

Irving and Kemble sprang forward to offer me assistance 
and Miss Livingston began to flutter around me aimlessly, as if 


1 88 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


afraid I might fall in pieces if she touched or spoke to me, 
and only Mr. Livingston and Miss Desloge sat still. 

I was annoyed at so much fuss. 

“ Tush ! " I exclaimed, rejecting impatiently Kemble's and 
Irving's outstretched hands. “ You see I am perfectly well 
able to take care of myself. I am not quite a Samson, but if 
Miss Desloge will allow me a seat beside her on the bulwarks 
I will convince you that I am no longer much of an invalid." 

My limbs were trembling under me, and I think Miss Desloge 
discovered that I was not as strong as I pretended, and there- 
fore reconsidered her first impulse to receive my request dis- 
dainfully. She made room for me beside her, looking up at 
me with a smile that brought the color back to my face with 
a rush — I could feel it. 

“We have been wishing for you, Sir Lionel," she said gently. 
“We did not like to have you miss these grand mountains. 
You have seen the Rhine, have you not? Is it as beautiful 
as this ? " 

“ Not half so majestic, not nearly so impressive," I an- 
swered, looking back at the dark fir-clad sides of the Dunder- 
berg and forward to the bold outline of St. Anthony's Nose, 
toward which our bellying sails were sweeping us rapidly. 
“ But have you never seen the Rhine ? " I added curiously, for 
she seemed to me like a young woman who had seen everything 
and done everything that was supposed to be the proper thing 
for a young woman to do. “ How does it happen you have 
never made the grand tour ? I supposed every properly 
brought up young lady had made it." 

“ I have not been properly brought up, I suppose," she said 
with an air of embarrassment that made me instantly regret 
my ill-timed pleasantry. I ought to have known better than to 
make such a speech to a poor young woman, dependent on her 
own exertions for a livelihood. But it was difficult for me 
to think of Mademoiselle Desloge as anything less than a duch- 
ess in disguise, she was such a regal creature in face and form 
— -yes, and in manner, too, when she chose to be. I started 
to apologize, but she gave me no chance. 


ON THE GREAT TIDAL RIVER 


189 


“ It was the fault of the time, Sir Lionel,” she said gravely. 
“ Maidens learned to do without many things, without accom- 
plishments and even comforts in those troubled years through 
which I was growung up and receiving an education. Many 
of us would have been thankful, indeed, if we could have kept 
our friends and our homes.” 

Her voice betrayed more feeling in those last words than 
she liked, for she added quickly, with a defiant little ring in 
her tones, “ Please don’t think, Sir Lionel, that Miss Living- 
ston’s French companion is making a bid for your sympathy.” 

Miss Livingston had begun to sing a quaint little song to 
a catchy air. I can remember none of the words but the 
chorus, in which the three gentlemen joined, and from a little 
distance, the skipper and his two sailors, and from the gallery 
door, Gumbo, the black steward, all swelled the chorus. It 
was a rollicking song, and the voices and the harmony were 
good, but I liked it best, because, for the moment, it shut Miss 
Desloge and me off to ourselves. 

“ Forgive me. Mademoiselle,” I said quickly ; “ it was a rude 
question. But will you think me rude if I ask you to tell me 
something about those times. Were you in them? Did you 
suffer?” 

No doubt she read the genuine sympathy in my voice, for 
she answered me simply and frankly: 

“ I do not like to talk or even think of them, Sir Lionel. 
I was a very little girl in ’93 and my friends did their best 
to keep the horror of it away from me, but they could not 
keep it all. I went to sleep at night in terror and woke in 
the morning in fear and trembling. One morning I woke up 
to find that those who were nearest to me had been seized and 
carried away in the night and — they never returned. Then 
I was placed in the convent of Les Soeurs Angelique, and 
there I stayed until a few months before I came to earn my 
living in America. So you see,” she added, with a struggle to 
recover her lightness of manner, “ there was no chance for me 
to make the 6 grand tour.’ ” 

“ Les Soeurs Angelique ! ” I repeated. “ Did you ever know 


190 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


a little girl there named Eosie Dufour? It seems to me that 
was the convent where she was educated.” 

“Eosamond Dufour? Was she a freckled-faced, red-headed 
little girl, awkward, and with long legs and arms ? ” 

“ Certainly she was not beautiful as I remember her, but 
I was only a boy and I do not think she impressed me as so 
ugly as you describe her. I was very fond of her when we 
were children.” 

“ Oh, I ought not to call her ugly,” Mademoiselle exclaimed 
quickly. “ She was a friend of yours and she was one of my 
very best friends all the years I was in the convent. But cer- 
tainly no one could call her beautiful when she first came, and 
she had a fiery little temper that matched her hair.” 

“ How did you learn to like such an unattractive little crea- 
ture as you paint her ? ” 

“ Oh, I was so sorry for her. Her friends, too, had per- 
ished in the Terror and she was so homesick for England, for 
she had only been in Prance a few months. She slept in the 
crib next mine in the children’s dormitory, and she used to 
cry at night, but so quietly no one heard her but me. Oh, and 
there was a little boy she used to talk of and wanted to see — 
could that have been you?” 

“Did she never call my name?” 

“ I think she did, but that was so long ago. She did not 
talk of you, as she grew older. Ah, I know now, it was you, 
for she called you Lion.” 

“ Poor little Eosie ! ” I murmured, and could have wept at 
the thought of the lonely child. “When did you see her 
last?” 

“Not so long ago. She was in the convent as long as I 
was there.” 

“ Poor Eosie ! ” I said again, “ it must have been hard to be 
so ugly and have for her best friend such a b — ” 

I was thinking aloud and I brought myself up short. Made- 
moiselle understood as I knew from the bright blush that leaped 
into her face, and her hurried way of speaking. 

“ Oh, but you must not think she grew up so ugly. I am 


ON THE GREAT TIDAL RIVER 


191 


sure people thought her quite as good-looking as her 
friend.” 

“ Impossible ! ” I murmured, but Miss Desloge refused to 
take any notice of my killing glance, and just then Miss Liv- 
ingston called to us: 

“ Come ! Mademoiselle and Sir Lionel. You must join in 
the chorus. You have talked long enough.” 

And stumbling over the outlandish names as best we could, 
I in my deep counter and Mademoiselle in her rich contralto, 
we did our best: 

“ West Point and Middletown, 

Konnosook and Doodletown, 

Kakiak and Marmapaw, 

Stony Point and Haverstraw.” 

“ No good mariner on the Hudson ever passes the Dunderberg 
without singing that chorus,” said Miss Livingston. “ Doodle- 
town is just behind the mountain and the other towns are not 
far off. Is n’t it a delightful song, Sir Lionel ? ” 

“Very — ” I began, but it was Mr. Livingston who inter- 
rupted : 

“ Mademoiselle,” he said gayly, “ I told you to beware ; there 
was danger among so many sparks, but I did not mean by that 
you must not wear Mr. La Force’s flowers. What have you 
done with them ? ” 

“ I gave them to Gumbo to put in water for me,” answered 
Mademoiselle carelessly, but with a steadily deepening color 
that I did not like. 


XVI 


A LETTER FOR THE EARLY MAIL 

P ERHAPS it was because of my weak condition that trifles 
made undue impression upon me, either irritating or 
worrying me as their nature might be. It was extremely irri- 
tating to me that Mr. La Force should have been sending 
flowers to Mademoiselle ; evidently their acquaintance had 
progressed rapidly during my illness. And it was still more 
irritating that Mademoiselle should have colored in that con- 
scious fashion at the mention of the flowers. But for that 
tell-tale blush I might have fancied it a matter of small mo- 
ment in which Mademoiselle was as little interested as her 
words were intended to indicate. 

But there was another matter that troubled me even more 
than Mr. La Force’s flowers — this was a subtle change, real 
or fancied, in Mr. Livingston’s manner toward me. 

In all his intercourse with the young people on the boat, 
he was full of a genial gayety as natural to him, apparently, 
as the air he breathed. Toward me alone there was a reserve 
and gravity of demeanor that amounted almost to constraint. 

This would not have seemed so noticeable, I might have 
thought it due to the fact that I was more of a stranger than the 
others, but that, until the last twenty-four hours, he had been 
most genially cordial to me. Indeed, it was more than cor- 
diality, for he professed unbounded gratitude for what he was 
pleased to term my saving of his life. And though he made 
his protestations in that gay, half- jesting manner natural to 
him, he repeated them so frequently and made them the excuse 
for all kinds of delicate attentions and services he was so con- 
tinually rendering me that I could not doubt his sincerity. 
But now all that was changed. He had spent several hours 


A LETTER FOR THE EARLY MAIL 


193 


of the day before at his office for the first time since his ill- 
ness, and returned late in the afternoon, extremely exhausted 
with the effort. So much so, in fact, that he retired at once 
to his room, requesting not to be disturbed at supper time. I 
had not seen him again until we were ready to start for the 
sloop in the morning, but it had seemed to me, from the mo- 
ment of his first greeting, that there was a change in his manner 
toward me. I could not doubt it as the day wore on, and he 
alone, of the little party, did not come near my couch to en- 
liven an invalid’s enforced seclusion ; and almost the first words 
he had addressed to me through the long day were uttered a 
few moments after his pleasant little speech to Miss Desloge. 

“I think, Sir Lionel, that you have tried your strength as 
long as it is well. I would advise your lying down again,” he 
said. 

The words themselves were kind enough, but the manner of 
their utterance was so formal that I was abashed. I was feel- 
ing stronger with every minute that I sat on the bulwarks 
beside Miss Desloge, the cool evening breeze, which had sprung 
up with the lengthening shadows, bringing strength and heal- 
ing on its wings, but I did not dare object to his suggestion, 
and I rose to my feet slowly. Mr. Irving, looking a little per- 
plexed, sprang to my assistance. 

“ Let me give you an arm, Green,” he said, and as we walked 
away together, he whispered in my ear, “what have you done 
to the mayor? He has been looking like a thundercloud all 
day.” 

“ I wish to Heaven I knew,” I answered hotly. “ Have you 
no suspicion, J onathan ? ” 

“Not in the least, but I rather think Miss Desloge has.” 

“ Miss Desloge ! ” I exclaimed. 

“ Yes ; didn’t you look at the two ladies when Mr. Livingston 
spoke to you? Miss Livingston colored and looked down, the 
picture of embarrassment for her uncle’s lack of cordiality; 
Miss Desloge looked straight at you, and if ever I saw compre- 
hension, sympathy, and a desire to animate with courage in a 
woman’s eyes they were all in the glance she bestowed on you.” 
13 


194 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


I had seen it too and thrilled under it while I did not un- 
derstand it. I was hardly surprised, therefore, that she fol- 
lowed us almost immediately, and I could hear her calling to 
the others : 

“ Come, Miss Livingston and Mr. Kemble, let us share Sir 
Lionel’s exile. I think he needs cheering up a bit.” There 
was a little defiant ring in her voice as she said it that I have 
no doubt was intended for Mr. Livingston’s ears. 

The others did not come, and after a while Irving sauntered 
off and left us alone together, while the mighty panorama of 
the hills slowly circled about us as we tacked and retacked, 
sometimes shutting us into a land-locked bay with no apparent 
egress and then suddenly disclosing a narrow outlet between the 
bases of lofty mountains, cool and shadowy, as the evening 
dews began to fall. 

There is no perceptible current in this great river, and so 
wide was it in places* that with the bold outline of the hills, 
clad in rich forests towering above it, it was more like a chain 
of beautiful lakes — a succession of Loch Katrines — than like 
any mere river I have ever seen. And yet, surpassingly beau- 
tiful as it was it could not entirely enchain my eyes; for be- 
side me sat Miss Desloge, her brown eyes lighting with won- 
der, her face glowing with the beauty reflected from river and 
shore, the soft air setting little red gold tendrils of hair curl- 
ing about neck and brow, and what man could have spared all 
his glances for mere scenery, however entrancing! Once when 
she caught me looking at her her eyes fell and a quick flush 
mounted under the warm white skin. 

“ Miss Desloge,” I said, to relieve her embarrassment and 
my own, “ can you recall that jingle we were singing and will 
you write it down for me ? It was such utter nonsense I would 
like to keep it.” 

I felt in my pocket for tablet and pencil, and she took them 
and wrote it out, but with her face still flushed and visibly 
embarrassed, so that I wondered a little. As I folded the bit 
of paper away in my pocket she looked up with the air of one 
taking a difficult resolution. 


A LETTER FOR THE EARLY MAIL 


195 


“ Sir Lionel,” she said, hesitatingly, “ Mr. Irving tells me 
that Mr. Livingston spent yesterday afternoon in his office.” 

“Yes,” I said, “he did,” for she seemed to be waiting for 
me to say something. 

“Do you think” — still more hesitatingly — “that would ac- 
count for his manner to-day ? ” 

“ His manner has not been peculiar, has it, except toward 
me, perhaps ? ” I asked. 

“ Ho, only to you.” 

“I can hardly see how a visit to his office should affect his 
feeling for me.” 

“ Do you — quite trust — Mr. La Force ? ” 

“ Mr. La Force ! I do not like him, but I know of no reason 
for distrusting him. Do you ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” she answered quickly, “ no reason . Only an in- 
tuition.” 

“But I thought you were great friends! He sends you 
flowers.” 

“ Which I throw into the river ! ” 

I smiled. 

“ That is what you meant by giving them to Gumbo to put 
in water ? ” 

She looked up at me with the familiar twinkle. 

“ I told the absolute truth. I gave them to Gumbo and told 
him to throw them into the river.” 

That little talk sent my spirits up many degrees and as the 
sun sank behind the western hills and the pale orb of an al- 
most full moon hung suspended over the brow of lofty Mount 
Taurus in the east, and the supper table was drawn up by my 
couch once more and the little party of six gathered around 
it for the evening meal, not even Mr. Irving was in a gayer 
mood than I. Gumbo served smoking dishes with tantalizing 
odors, and for the sick man an omelette light and golden, a 
slice of hot toast deliciously browned, and a cup of fragrant 
tea. Mr. Irving told tales of the Highlands, and the sloop 
skimmed lightly over the water, every sail set and bending 
and bowing to the evening breeze, and by the time the sun 


196 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


had gone quite down behind Old Cro’s Nest and the moon was 
well up over the shoulder of Taurus, casting bright lights and 
deep shadows, we were drawing up to the landing at West Point. 

My elation did not leave me on the slow drive up the wind- 
ing and picturesque road to the barracks and the commandant’s 
house on a broad plateau several hundred feet above the river. 
The commandant himself, a most courteous gentleman, and 
Mayor Livingston were in the carriage with me, so I was being 
treated as a guest of honor; and though I would have liked 
better to be beside Miss Desloge in that other carriage behind, 
from which the sound of merry voices and occasional peals of 
laughter rendered it difficult for me at times to make suitable 
responses to the commandant’s kind inquiries for my welfare, 
yet I was still too elated by the thought of Mr. La Force’s 
flowers flung into the river to be entirely unhappy under my 
compulsory honors. 

On the broad plateau at the top of the drive, the cadets, a 
little company of fifty or sixty, and a fine soldierly-looking lot 
of young fellows, were drawn up in company order in the moon- 
light to give the mayor a salute of honor. It occurred to me 
then, as it has occurred to me often since, that the moonlight is 
brighter in this country than in ours, for on the open parade 
grounds the cadets stood out more distinctly in the brilliant 
moonlight than they might have done on many a foggy Novem- 
ber day in England. 

Mayor Livingston had to make them a speech, and in the 
light of what I learned later, of the heavy care that sat brood- 
ing at his heart that day, I have often wondered at the rollick- 
ing good humor, the brilliant wit, and the patriotic fire he put 
into his brief sentences. He was a great man, and in spite of 
my feeling that in some way — how, I could not guess — I had 
come under the ban of his displeasure, I glowed with enthu- 
siasm at his words, and all the ardor of my hero-worship, which 
had been chilled a little in that long day on the river, revived 
with full force. 

The cadets received his speech with vigorous cheers, in which 
the occupants of the two carriages joined as vigorously; the 


A LETTER FOR THE EARLY MAIL 


197 

ladies adding the eager clapping of their little hands to swell 
the chorus of the men. In the hall of the commandant’s 
house, we found a late tea awaiting us, which I, for one, was 
glad to see. I have heard that not all the American houses 
have our English meal of a late supper and that an English- 
man is often in danger of going to bed hungry in a land flow- 
ing with milk and honey. I was weary enough to have gone 
straight to my bed, but a bit of chicken, a biscuit and a glass 
of very good wine made me forget my fatigue and I was glad 
of a chance for another word with Mademoiselle before we sep- 
arated for the night. 

I found my chance and began straightway: 

“ Mademoiselle, there is something I want to say to you, 
something I was about to ask you when Gumbo interrupted us 
with supper on the boat.” 

“ Was it about Mr. La Force ? ” she asked quickly. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Please don’t ask me. I have been regretting that I spoke 
as I did. I had no right to arouse your suspicions. It was 
neither discreet nor friendly of me.” 

“ I thought it very friendly, to me.” 

“ But not to Mr. La Force.” 

“Oh! You regard him as a friend?” 

She colored with vexation. 

“I have no right to treat him otherwise, no matter how I 
may regard him, since he has always shown himself friendly to 
me,” she answered frigidly. 

“ Certainly not,” I replied as coldly, and the commandant’s 
wife, a very gracious lady, coming up to me with a bed candle 
in her hand and giving me many motherly precautions as to 
the night air, I said good night to her and to Miss Desloge and 
went upstairs, with Irving, in a very different frame of mind 
from the joyful one in which I had entered that house. 

As we started for the staircase, curving up from one end of 
the wide hall, the commandant called after us. 

“ Young gentlemen,” he said, “ if you would like to send any 
letters back to the city, I have an orderly starting for New 


198 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S' COMPANION 


York early in the morning. As he will probably set out be- 
fore you are up, anything you want to go you must lay on the 
hall table to-night. You will find writing materials in your 
rooms.” 

We thanked him, but I, for one, had no letters to send back, 
and only longed to be in bed and forget in sleep Miss Desloge 
and Mr. La Force, yes, and every American I had met, I was 
ready to add in my present irritable and unreasoning frame of 
mind. 

But sleep was long in coming and when it came it brought 
with it fretful and troubled dreams that were more harassing 
than my waking thoughts. I had opened my eyes many times 
through the night only to find the moonlight still flooding the 
room. When I opened them at last and saw through a window 
looking toward the east that Mount Taurus was standing out 
grim and black against the background of the gray dawn, I 
was glad the long night was over, and slipping quietly from my 
bed and into my clothes, so as not to disturb Irving, I stole 
down stairs and out into the dew-drenched morning. 

No spirit of unrest could withstand the beauty and the glory 
of that wonderful dawn. All night I had been questioning 
myself: Was I falling in love with Miss Desloge? Had I 
any right to do so ? And if I had was she not a born coquette, 
playing with me, while really interested in Mr. La Force? 

But however I might answer the first two questions, the peace 
of the morning answered the last for me. With all the high 
canopy of heaven catching the rose tints from the flaming nim- 
bus about Mount Taurus* hoary crest and reflecting them in 
the still waters below that lay motionless and dark as a moun- 
tain tarn, guarded by Taurus and Breakneck mountain on the 
east and on the west by Old Cro*s Nest and Storm King; in 
the heart of all this more than earthly splendor, the very air 
about me palpitating and glowing with beauty, it was impos- 
sible to doubt Miss Desloge. I turned toward the house as the 
glow began to fade from mountain peak and mountain tarn, 
happy in the blessedness of being alive on such a morning, with 
youth and love to make life bright with promise. 


A LETTEB FOE THE EAELY MAIL 


199 


In coming through the hall, a half hour before, it had been 
too dark to see objects distinctly, but I had noted that on the 
table but one letter lay awaiting the orderly’s early morning 
start. Only one of the commandant’s guests, evidently, had 
availed himself of the opportunity for sending mail to New 
York. On my return to the house the outer door stood open 
and the first rays of the rising sun were penetrating every 
nook and corner of the wide hall. The letter still lay on the 
table, but the orderly was following close behind me and took 
it up from under my eyes as I passed. But not before my 
glance had involuntarily fallen upon the superscription and 
recognized it. 

It was addressed to “ ME. GASTON LA FOECE, FED- 
EEAL HALL, NEW YOBK CITY,” and no man had penned 
that superscription. Moreover, I had seen that writing but 
once before, yet well I knew that all its flowing characters were 
identical with the lines on the folded bit of paper lying near 
my heart, the idle rhyme : 

“ West Point and Middletown, 

Konnosook and Doodletown, 

Kakiak and Marmapaw, 

Stony Point and Haverstraw.” 


XVII 


HOPE RIDES WITH ME TO MONTGOMERY PLACE 

I HAD been nearly a week in Clermont, and in all that time 
I had not once lapsed from the air of dignified courtesy 
toward Mademoiselle Desloge that I had prescribed for myself 
as I climbed the stairs to my room that early morning in West 
Point. I had said to myself then — she is a born coquette, 
French to her heart’s core; there can be no sympathy between 
her and an Anglo-Saxon reared to esteem sincerity the highest 
of all virtues. 

Moreover I had said to myself — Why should I be caught the 
second time in the lure of any woman? Have I not had my 
lesson? I am here for adventure, not for love, and as long as 
I remain on American soil, I will not think twice of any 
maiden. Let her have her Frenchman — they are of kindred 
blood. As for me, when I fall in love, it shall be with some 
true-hearted English girl, or not at all. 

They were brave words, bravely spoken — or bravely thought 
— but they were hard to live up to. Hard when, as often 
happened, Mademoiselle was the center of attraction to some 
little circle of admirers, hanging on her lips for her gay smiles 
and witty words; harder still, when, as sometimes happened, I 
was left alone with her and all her gay spirits fell away from 
her and she was gently solicitous for my health, or spirits, with 
a soft little air of deprecating my displeasure (which she 
seemed to recognize), that was very hard indeed to resist; 
hardest of all, when, as happened more than once, Miss Living- 
ston was imperious or capricious with her ; and to be the witness 
of the painful flush of wounded pride and self-esteem, or worse, 
the quivering lip of hurt sensibilities, was almost more than mor- 
tal man could withstand. And yet I hardened my heart and 

200 * 


HOPE RIDES WITH ME 


201 


treated her coldly, for had I not seen with my own eyes her let- 
ter to La Force, and known that she must have sat up until the 
midnight hour to write it? 

The Livingstons owned several great places in the neighbor- 
hood of Clermont and by this time I had recovered my strength 
sufficiently for riding (for the fine air was in itself the best of 
tonics), and it was proposed that we should visit the family 
places in turn, beginning with Montgomery Place, belonging 
to Mr. Livingston’s sister, a few miles farther down the river. 
I had brought Saladin with me and I had also brought from 
the City Tavern a mulatto boy who had taken a great fancy 
to Saladin — which the horse seemed to return — and who had 
taken entire charge of him during my illness. I was finding 
him useful also as valet for he was as nimble-fingered in brush- 
ing and polishing and in tying ribbons and lacers as he was 
firm-handed with bit and bridle, and this in my semi-invalid 
condition I found no small convenience. 

The ride to Montgomery Place was rather long for an in- 
valid, Mr. Livingston said, for as an invalid he persisted in 
regarding me, and we were to make the start immediately 
after breakfast that we might take it in a leisurely fashion 
with intervals for rest. I was as eager for the expedition as 
any boy, for it was to be my first ride in weeks, and my strength 
and spirits had waxed rapidly in the last few days. Our way 
lay through an enchanting country, along the old Post Road 
from Albany, with the noble river on our right; over hills and 
valleys, across winding streams and by picturesque falls, and 
through forests already beginning to show glimpses of that 
wonderful color, scarlet and gold, that was soon to make them 
a blaze of beauty almost inconceivable to my Englishman’s 
experience. More than all, the air was like wine, with just a 
hint of frost in it and of an intoxicating quality new to my 
senses, and that I have no doubt was largely responsible for the 
exhilaration of my spirits as the little cavalcade cantered gayly 
down the long avenue of maples and through the park-like 
grounds of Clermont. 

Certainly Miss Desloge had nothing to do with my sense 


202 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


of elation. I was not riding by her side, and Mr. Livingston 
was. And since Mr. Livingston was still a young and attractive 
man and a widower, and evidently much charmed with the beau- 
tiful Frenchwoman — who in her turn seemed not ill pleased 
with his attentions — I ought to have been suffering the pangs 
of jealousy, I suppose, and no doubt would have been but for the 
stern resolution I had taken at West Point. As it was, Irving 
and I were racing ahead of the little party and then dashing 
back upon them, making a great display of our horsemanship 
and a greater display of hilarity which was not entirely forced 
on my part (it was not at all forced on Irving’s, he was always 
jovial), but it was not entirely forced on my part, since the 
sight of Miss Desloge, in her flowing habit of hunter’s green, 
a dark green plume mingling with the waving mane of her hair, 
burnished like copper, and riding a spirited horse with perfect 
ease and skill; the sight of all this loveliness, and none of it 
for me, acted on my spirits much as a goad acts on a mettled 
steed — it rendered them for the time being, wild and uncon- 
trollable. 

Even Irving began to wonder at me at last. 

“ What ails you this morning, Green ? ” he asked finally. 
“ You are acting more like one of our wild Hurons than like a 
sedate young English baronet.” 

The answer I made was to dare him to a leap across a little 
stream on whose banks we had drawn rein. The road wound 
down through a ford but where we stood the banks were high 
and steep and rocky and a good twenty feet across. 

“ Are you mad, Green ? ” was all his answer ; and the others 
coming up at that moment, he turned to Miss Desloge. 

“ What have you done to Sir Lionel, Miss Desloge, that he 
should be wishing to commit suicide ? ” he asked. “ He is dar- 
ing me to leap across White Clay Kill, and kill it would be for 
himself and Saladin, too, if he attempted it.” 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” said Miss Desloge coolly ; “ it ’s hard to 
kill some people, you know, Mr. Irving.” 

Her tone, not her words, stung me, and I was mad that morn- 
ing, as Irving said. 


HOPE RIDES WITH ME 


203 


“If they are born to be hung, I suppose you mean, Made- 
moiselle ? Thanks for your courtesy ! ” I exclaimed with more 
bitterness than the occasion would seem to warrant. 

“As you please, Sir Lionel,” she returned coldly. “I did 
not say that.” 

“Perhaps you think — ” I spoke with a half sneer and I 
had entirely forgotten there were any listeners — “ Perhaps 
you think I was making an idle boast and that I would not 
dare attempt the leap ? I will show Mademoiselle that English - 
men always mean what they say.” 

I turned Saladin back as I spoke so as to get a better start 
that he might make a running jump, for it was indeed an ugly 
chasm, and I would give him every advantage. As I turned, 
her voice rang out clear and startling: 

“ If you do, Sir Lionel, I will follow you on Blackbird ! ” 

I did not for a moment dream that she would, and I answered 
her only by a laugh of derision. In a moment I wheeled 
Saladin and came thundering down toward them and as I 
passed I could see her sitting Blackbird, a figure carved in 
marble, so white was she, but her eyes, flaming coals of fire. 
Saladin hesitated not . a moment at the yawning chasm but 
gathered his feet up under him and went over it as if shot 
from a bow, landing well on the farther side a good two feet 
from the brink. 

I rather expected applause for my dare-devil feat, from 
Irving at least, and I turned to receive it; but as I turned, my 
blood froze in my veins. Miss Desloge was in the act of wheel- 
ing Blackbird for the same mad leap. 

“ Stop her ! ” I shouted frantically, but so quick had been 
her movement and so slow were they in comprehending it, and 
so frozen with horror when they did, that no one moved a 
muscle. 

I sprang from the saddle and stood ready to spring to Black- 
bird’s bridle should she need it, and in that dreadful moment, 
with every muscle tense, every nerve quivering with horror, 
my Welsh inheritance took possession of me. It was no longer 
Miss Desloge for whose awful leap on Blackbird I was waiting, 


204 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


it was the little Eosie lying bruised and stunned in the ditch 
with Snowball. 

I had to clear my brain with an effort, for at that moment 
Blackbird with her rider rose in the air and it seemed to me 
that I could tell from the way she rose that she was not going 
to clear the chasm. This was no little ditch such as Eosie 
Dufour and her pony fell into, it was a rocky abyss, a fall 
into whose depths meant certain death to horse and rider. How 
I cursed my folly! Yes and came near cursing hers also. 
How could she have been so mad ! I hardly dared breathe lest 
any slightest movement of mine should cause horse and rider 
to swerve, but I stood with every faculty alert, every muscle 
tightened for the spring, when the moment should arrive. It 
was the agony of a lifetime, compressed into the brief seconds 
required for the leap. Blackbird's forefeet reached solid ground 
but her hind hoofs clattered on the rocky brink and struggling 
desperately she began to slip backward. Still almost afraid 
to move lest, startling the mare, I should make her lose her 
equilibrium, I nevertheless made one swift spring and clutched 
the bridle. With all my weight pulling her strongly forward 
and my voice encouraging her, she struggled up the bank and 
stood quivering with terror under the chestnut tree to which I 
led her a few rods away. 

Not until I had quieted the horse did I look up at Miss 
Desloge. 

“Will you get down, Mademoiselle?" I asked, extending 
my arms to assist her in dismounting, and wishing with all 
my heart that I had the inches and the strength of my big 
Philadelphia friend, that I might have lifted her from her sad- 
dle without stopping to question her. But she did not demur. 
I had spoken sternly, for only so could I command my voice 
to speak at all. Mademoiselle was very white, but she was not 
trembling as I was trembling. She did not answer me but 
she put out her arms and I lifted her from her saddle and set 
her on the ground beside me and for one unconscious moment 
I did not let her go. 

The rest of the party on the other side of the chasm had 


HOPE EIDES WITH ME 


205 


waited breathless until they saw that Mademoiselle was safe, and 
now were out of sight behind the bluff hurrying down to the 
ford. With my arm still clasping Mademoiselle closely, and 
hardly conscious of it, my whole soul so devoutly thankful for 
her safety, and trembling yet at the thought of what she had so 
narrowly escaped, I stood looking down at her and uttered not 
a word. She was no longer white; the color was rushing back 
to her face in a flood. Neither was she any longer so coldly 
unmoved. At last she was trembling; her little chin was quiv- 
ering and the tears were slowly brimming her brown eyes. 

“Will you ever forgive me. Sir Lionel?” she whispered. 

Forgive her ! It was I who had so madly risked my own 
life and so wickedly induced her to imperil hers. Could I 
ever forgive myself? And where were the stern resolutions 
I had taken in West Point! All my soul was longing to draw 
her to my heart; to tell her I loved her madly, foolishly but 
devotedly; to beg her to forget my folly and to crown my life 
with her love. In another moment I would have cast all 
prudence to the winds; all my promises to my father and all 
my doubts of the beautiful Frenchwoman, and my suspicions 
of her relations to the handsome La Force. But in that very 
moment there were shouts from the ford below. I glanced 
over my shoulder; the whole party led by Mr. Livingston were 
coming rapidly up the steep incline toward us. Miss Desloge 
sprang quickly away from me, but only within arm’s length, 
and as the shouts and the clatter of hoofs came rapidly nearer, 
she asked me again : 

“ Can you forgive me ? ” 

“ Mademoiselle,” I said, “ it is very hard when I remember 
how nearly you lost your life.” 

“But I only followed you.” She looked up, a twinkling 
smile struggling with her tears. “ And I told you I would.” 

“ I forgive you this time,” I answered, smiling back at her 
and speaking softly, “ if you will promise always to follow me. 
Will you?” 

She looked up, but not at me. She was all rosy red, but 
her voice was calmness itself. 


206 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


“ I was very silly and very foolhardy, Mr. Livingston / 5 she 
said depreeatingly. “ I hope you and Miss Livingston will 
excuse me. I fear it is my temperament, never to be willing 
to see anyone attempt a daring feat without trying to do the 
same . 55 

And Mr. Livingston, looking down on her from his horse, 
and smiling fatuously, as all men smiled on her, turned sternly 
to me: 

“ Sir Lionel, you are greatly to blame . 55 

I bowed my head to his censure which I knew I richly de- 
served, but I cared but little for it, for the heart within me was 
singing a song sweeter and more exultant than it had sung for 
many a day. 


XVIII 


DESPAIR RETURNS WITH ME TO CLERMONT 

I DID not ride by Miss Desloge much of the way to Mont- 
gomery Place, and when I did, Mr. Livingston was on her 
other side keeping jealous guard, so that I began to wonder 
whether he was guarding Mademoiselle for himself or against 
me. It almost looked like the latter, for, when Irving rode 
up beside her, Mr. Livingston often fell back and gave place, 
but never to me. 

This began to be annoying, and there was so much I wanted 
to say to Mademoiselle, and that was pounding at the portals 
of my lips for utterance, that I found his surveillance very 
hard to brook. Yet it had one result that perhaps, after all, 
was for the best; it gave me time to think. For I could think 
while Miss Livingston was talking to me, or Kemble, or Irving. 
I could have done nothing but feel, blindly and uncontrollably, 
and no doubt would have spoken rashly and unwisely had I 
been beside Miss Desloge with none to hear. 

It gave me time to remember my promise to my father. 
What was I to do about it ! I had gone too far in that moment 
when, with my arm about Mademoiselle, I had looked into her 
eyes with all my heart in mine, not to go farther. I was bound 
in honor to her, but I was also bound in honor to my father. 

There was but one thing to do. Somehow I must manage 
to ride alone with Miss Desloge on our return from Montgomery 
Place and I would make a clean breast to her. I would tell her 
about Peggy and how bitterly I regretted my foolishness, and 
how I was bound by my promise to my father never again to 
engage myself in marriage without his consent. But I would 
tell her, also, that there could be no doubt in the world of my 
father’s approval, could he but see and know her; and since 

207 , 


208 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


that was impossible, I still thought his consent would readily 
be given when I should write him and tell him all about her. 
If necessary, I would ask Mr. Livingston to write also, or Miss 
Livingston, since the word of either would carry great weight 
with my father; though I confess I was troubled a little when 
I thought of asking either of them, at the uncomfortable re- 
membrance that Mr. Livingston seeped antagonistic to me (per- 
haps because he desired Miss Desloge for himself) and Miss 
Livingston had so frequently shown herself arbitrary and un- 
kind to Mademoiselle — (could it be because she had any 
designs on me?). Oh, the conceit of youth! 

Nevertheless, having determined on my line of action, I was 
happy, although no longer elated, and I rode along soberly but 
cheerfully to Montgomery Place. Now I had greatly liked 
every member of the Livingston family I had met; even Miss 
Livingston, when she was not hectoring Miss Desloge, could 
be most charming; but Mrs. Montgomery, whom I had been 
most anxious to see as the widow of the great general and 
martyr, one of my heroes of history, proved to be more charm- 
ing than any of the family I had met so far. She was stand- 
ing on the broad piazza of her house, facing the lawns sloping 
down to the great river and the blue line of the Catskills across 
the river. She was waiting to receive us as we cantered up 
the driveway, and she knew how to be grande dame and cordial 
hostess in one, for in a moment she had made the two strangers 
of the party, Miss Desloge and myself, as perfectly at home as 
if we had been old friends. By her side stood my young friend, 
William Jay, who came eagerly forward, as soon as he had per- 
formed his shy and blushing devoirs to Miss Desloge, to greet 
Saladin and me. I was glad to see the boy’s bright face again, 
and I told him that when he came over to Clermont he should 
try Saladin, and perhaps he would want to take him home with 
him. 

We had passed, on our way up to the house, a pompous- 
looking man and a rather haughty-looking lady driven in a 
curricle by a coachman in livery, and when our greetings were 
well over Mr. Livingston turned to his sister : 


DESPAIR RETURN'S WITH ME TO CLERMONT 209 


“Was that not Mr. Livingston Burrows and his wife that 
we met just driving out as we came in ? ” he asked her. 

“ It was indeed/* she answered. 

“I am surprised you did not ask them to stay to dinner/’ 
said her brother in mild reproof. 

“Oh, Edward!” she shrugged her shoulders impatiently; 
“ I was so sick of them ! They spent the night here and I 
have been all morning trying to get rid of them before you 
should arrive. They are so stupid, and you know we are not 
used to dull people in our family. I can’t stand them.” 

Mr. Livingston laughed. He knew his sister and he knew 
she was right — they were not used to dull people in the Liv- 
ingston family and had but little patience with stupidity of 
any kind. I began to wonder if it was because Mr. Livingston 
had found me dull that he had so changed in his manner to me, 
and I longed greatly to acquit myself with credit at Mrs. Mont- 
gomery’s table, to which we were shortly summoned, both be- 
cause I did not want to bore that lady, whose animated face 
and gracious manner had won my liking at once, and because 
I more than ever desired to shine in Miss Desloge’s eyes. But 
for both of these reasons, I believe, I was under more than 
usual constraint, and while I never made a greater effort to be 
entertaining, I believe I never made a greater failure of it. 
Mrs. Montgomery, however, at whose right I sat, did not seem 
to think so; she laughed at all my small jokes, some of which 
she repeated to the table, and she constantly drew me out on 
my life at home, in which she professed the deepest interest. 
What pleased me still more, as an evidence of her friendliness, 
she talked much of her “ Soldier boy,” as she called her hero- 
husband, and told me many thrilling tales of his bravery, and 
the sad one of his gallant death on the Plains of Abraham. 
She was altogether charming, and I wished with all my heart 
that I could have been more brilliant to please her. 

But if I was dull, Mademoiselle was not. I had never known 
her anything else than wise and witty in her conversation, but 
she was outdoing herself to-day, fairly sparkling with a saucy 
humor that I could see Mr. Livingston and Mr. Irving were 
14 


210 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


finding very enchanting; and young Will was hanging on her 
lips like one bewitched. I wondered if it was the excitement 
of her ride and its perilous adventure that was making her 
even more brilliant than usual and I knew very well that her 
brilliancy was partially responsible for my stupidity — it was 
impossible not to have one ear strained to catch the speeches 
that kept her end of the table so hilarious, while trying with 
the other to be dutifully attentive to Mrs. Montgomery. 

Mrs. Montgomery’s dinner was like most of the dinners I 
had had in America, very good indeed. The American cookery 
is more French than English, with many dishes that are neither 
French nor English but altogether delightful, and I confess 
to a keen enjoyment of the pleasures of the table. Yet I was 
not sorry when the dinner was ended. It was nearly five o’clock 
when we men, counting Will as a man, followed the ladies into 
the drawing-room for coffee. The days were growing shorter 
and I was anxious to be on that homeward ride before dark, 
for I was determined to secure Mademoiselle for part of it, 
since I had much to say to her. It was half past five by the 
time we were started and I found myself riding with young 
Will Jay, who had accepted Miss Livingston’s invitation to 
Clermont eagerly, as much I believe for the sake of Miss Desloge 
as for the chance of a ride on Saladin. 

But if I was riding with Will the first part of the way, I 
had a very definite plan in mind by which I should secure 
Mademoiselle for the latter part of the ride. I did not put it 
into execution until we arrived at the ford over White Clay 
Kill. Miss Desloge and Mr. Livingston were in advance, but 
their horses stopped to drink at the ford, as did the other horses 
as they came up. I rode into the water and checked Saladin 
by the side of Blackbird. 

“ Miss Desloge,” I said loud enough to be sure that Mr. 
Livingston heard, “ I have an idea that Blackbird and Saladin 
are the fleetest horses here. Will you ride forward with me 
and put it to the proof after we have crossed the kill ? ” 

I saw Mr. Livingston look up quickly and start to speak, 


DESPAIR RETURN'S WITH ME TO CLERMONT 211 


but he restrained himself, though I could perceive that he 
listened anxiously for Miss Desloge’s reply. 

“Do you mean to race them? Oh, I should love it,” she 
answered with her eyes sparkling. 

“Beware of Sir Lionel, Miss Desloge,” interposed Mr. Liv- 
ingston smilingly; “he may lead you into peril again.” 

Although he spoke jestingly I felt his reproof and hastened 
to reassure him. 

“ Indeed, sir,” I said earnestly, “ I am too sensible of my 
former folly, and was too shocked at Miss Desloge’s deadly 
peril ever to lead her into the like again.” 

“ A peril from which Sir Lionel alone had the presence of 
mind to rescue me,” said Miss Desloge, speaking quickly and 
with a little glance of defiance at Mr. Livingston. 

I could not understand her manner to Mr. Livingston. I 
admired him so greatly in spite of his change of demeanor to 
me, that I did not quite like her little air of defiance which I 
had twice noted. Neither did Mr. Livingston, I suppose, 
though, except for a slight increase of color he ignored it. 

“ Very well, my children ! ” he said, with an exaggerated 
air of benevolence; “young people must be young, I suppose, 
and cannot be expected to heed the warnings of their elders. 
Only, pray, do nothing rash, Miss Desloge.” 

This last, it seemed to me, was said with a certain significance 
that made me color in my turn. But our horses had finished 
drinking and we left the others still grouped picturesquely in 
the shallow waters of the ford, sparkling over their pebbly bed 
in the last rays of the setting sun, and slowly climbed the steep 
hill that led up from the ford on the farther side. Once well 
up on the level road we stopped for a moment, dazzled by the 
beauty that lay around and below us. At our feet was the 
rocky and picturesque canon through which the little kill dashed 
in a series of foaming cascades before it reached the quiet 
waters of the ford. Behind us rose a hill rich with verdure, 
and every maple, birch and somber fir stood out with separate 
distinctness in the level rays of the rapidly-sinking sun. A 


212 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


little beyond^ the towers of the Chateau of Tivoli among its 
trees, and still further on the many windows of Eose Hill, were 
catching those same rays and blazing in reflected glory. Below 
as lay the Hudson — broad here, since the little kill emptied 
into North Bay — its placid waters a sea of molten gold; and 
across the river, a little to the north, the purple Catskills had 
gathered about them a gorgeous canopy of crimson and gold 
with which to shelter the slumbers of the Old Man of the 
Mountains. 

We were silent for a while, as one must needs be in the pres- 
ence of great beauty, and then Mademoiselle sighed. 

“ Such a wonderful land ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ Would you like to make your home in it?” I asked, trem- 
bling a little at my own question, for I was thinking of Mr. 
Livingston, w r ho seemed so greatly pleased with her; of the 
gay Irving, who seized every opportunity of being near her; 
but most of all was I thinking of the hateful La Force and 
his flowers. Her answer relieved that fear, but it did not give 
me perfect satisfaction. 

“ Oh, no,” she said with a light blush, for I think she recog- 
nized my purpose in asking ; “ oh, no, I do not think I would 
be willing to live anywhere out of my own country.” 

This was my moment for making my confession and telling 
her that I hoped much she would some day be willing to live 
out of La Belle France in Merry England; but the hoofs of 
the other horses were clattering up the rocky hill behind us and 
rapidly drawing near. 

“Now for our race. Miss Desloge,” I said. “I would like 
to put a good mile between us and the others, and I believe we 
can.” 

I spoke hurriedly, and she answered by a quick glance of 
comprehension and a light touch of her whip on Blackbird’s 
flank. We were off in a flash, and the others having by now 
reached the level road were hard after us, Irving and young 
Will shouting and spurring their horses determined to over- 
take us, but the rest only making a pretense of it. 

It was as I thought. Blackbird and Saladin w^ere far fleeter 


DESPAIE EETUENS WITH ME TO CLEEMONT 213 


than the other horses and a very few minutes carried ns out of 
sight and hearing of the rest of our party. When we were 
so far ahead there would be no danger, at least for a while, 
from either Irving or Will, I checked both horses with a word. 
Miss Desloge looked as if she would like to remonstrate at my 
presuming to control Blackbird, but I gave her no chance. 

“ We have proved it. Mademoiselle,” I said, “ and I have 
secured my chance to say to you what, if it were left unsaid, 
would give me no rest to-night.” 

“ An invalid’s rest must not be disturbed,” she murmured 
with a teasing smile. 

“I am an invalid no longer, Miss Desloge, though I could 
wish I were, if I could continue to receive the services of my 
nurse,” I answered, well knowing she liked no reference to her 
nursing. And then I hastened on, for looking down on her 
(Saladin was a good two hands taller than Blackbird and I 
liked the sensation) I could see her vexed look, and I did not 
want to anger her. 

. “ Miss Desloge,” I said, “ you did not answer me when I 

asked you to follow me always, and I do not want you to answer 
me until I have told you something you have a right to know.” 
Then, with much halting, I have no doubt, I told her why I 
had come to America; sent by my father to break off a very 
foolish affair, which did not seem to me foolish at the time, 
and in which I had resented my father’s interference and acted 
altogether as any headstrong boy would act in his first love af- 
fair. I told her how I had at last discovered that my father 
was right and I was wrong; that the young woman was mar- 
ried to another man almost before she had said good-by to me; 
and that my father could not regard the whole affair as more 
foolish than I now saw it to be, nor regret it half so deeply. 

Through the whole recital I spoke of it as an episode of my 
youth, long since past and to be forgiven to a very young boy, 
and yet it was hardly three months since that evening on the 
Cher under the walls of Magdalen, when I had said good-by 
to Peggy. Of course I did not mention her name, nor her 
profession, but I can see now that I must have seemed the 


214 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


veriest little prig to Miss Desloge, with my lofty airs and my 
moralizing over my own youthful folly. I did not look at her 
much while I was telling it, for I had the grace to be embar- 
rassed, but I remembered afterward that when I did glance at 
her once or twice her expression puzzled me, and embarrassed 
me still more. 

I finished my recital by telling her of my promise to my 
father, never again to make an engagement of marriage with- 
out first obtaining his consent. 

“ Therefore, Mademoiselle,” I concluded, “ I cannot enter 
into an engagement until I hear from my father, but I am 
sure he will think I have chosen wisely this time and I do not 
think we need fear he will not give his consent.” 

Oh, what a conceited puppy I was in those days ! I was very 
genuinely in love with Miss Desloge, and I was not conscious 
of any feeling of condescension in the rich Sir Lionel proposing 
to the poor dependent, Miss Desloge, and certainly I had no 
intention of speaking in a patronizing fashion. Just as cer- 
tainly Miss Desloge had never given me any reason to be sure 
of her answer; why I should have spoken as if she were as 
anxious for my father’s consent as I, I cannot understand, ex- 
cept that it must have been that the gods were jealous of me. 

“ It is very kind of you, Sir Lionel, to tell me all this,” she 
said icily. “ I have been much interested, but I fear it has 
been an embarrassment to reveal your intimate history to one 
who is so much of a stranger as Miss Livingston’s French com- 
panion must be to the young English baronet. I appreciate 
the honor you do me in your conditional proposal, but I beg 
you will not annoy your father by writing him about me at all. 
One impossible love affair in a young man’s life should be 
sufficient.” 

“ Miss Desloge ! ” I began angrily and stopped short. I was 
hot to my finger tips and choked with angry sensations; my 
eyes were almost blinded by the rush of blood to them, but I 
had sense enough left to perceive that I had made a terrible 
botch of an interview that I had intended to be frank and 
friendly and wise . That was it! There lay my blunder! 


DESPAIR RETURNS WITH ME TO CLERMONT 215 


What has wisdom to do with love! If I had cast prudence to 
the winds, no doubt Miss Desloge would have listened to me 
kindly and answered me very differently. No woman wants a 
man to stop and weigh his words when he is trying to win her 
heart. 

I paused long enough after my first violent “ Miss Desloge ” 
to say all this to myself, and to try to persuade myself that 
the iciness of her tone, the lurking sarcasm in her speech, 
probably arose from pique. Perhaps she did not like the 
thought of Peggy or, perhaps I had seemed too cocksure. She 
evidently thought I was patronizing her; no doubt she thought 
I believed that a dependent " companion” would jump at the 
chance of marrying a rich young baronet. I grew still hotter 
at the thought, but I would show her I was meekness itself. 

"Miss Desloge,” I began again, "it was embarrassing, as 
you have supposed, to disclose my folly to you. If I had not 
thought I was disclosing it to a friend who would, at least, feel 
some interest in it, I would have hesitated long before doing 
so, though I felt the disclosure was due before I could honestly 
ask you to be my wife. If I have been mistaken — if I have 
been thinking of you as a friend where you have thought of 
me only as the ‘ stranger 9 you have called me, you must indeed 
have found me presumptuous, and I must accept your severe 
rebuke without a murmur. I can see, now, how foolish I have 
been to cherish hopes that you have never given me the slightest 
excuse for cherishing. You are right to remind me that I 
ought not to make myself a fool twice — once in loving un- 
worthily and once in setting my hopes too high. I hear horses, 
Mr. Irving and Will, I suppose; shall we stop and wait for 
them ? ” 

For answer she gave Blackbird a sharp cut with her whip, 
and Blackbird was away on the very wings of her namesake in 
a moment. I could not have held Saladin back if I had tried, 
with Blackbird flying before him, and I did not try. With 
great leaps and bounds he was beside the little mare in a trice, 
and neck and neck they thundered down the road. 

Not until we were well out of all danger of sight and sound 


216 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


of the horses behind us did Miss Desloge draw rein. Then 
she spoke very sweetly and seriously and without a sign of that 
twinkle in her eye that I always found meant mischief. 

“It was not nice of me to speak as I did, Sir Lionel/’ she 
said, “and I beg your forgiveness. I was very deeply inter- 
ested in what you told me, and I thought it very kind and good 
of you to tell me what I know you found it hard to tell. But 
I meant what I said about not annoying your father. Please 
do not write to him of me; it would be useless to make him 
trouble for naught and — I will never marry anyone but one of 
my own countrymen ” 

As she said this last I thought I caught a fleeting glimpse 
of that wicked twinkle. If I did, it was gone in a flash, and 
I was puzzled to know why it should have appeared at such a 
moment. Was she mocking me? 

But I did not stop to dwell on that — I was too overwhelmed 
by her last words — “ I will only marry one of my own country- 
men.” Then it was Mr. La Force, after all, and there was 
indeed no hope for me. I think had she said anything but 
just what she did say, I would not have despaired so easily, 
but I had felt, from the moment I had first met Mr. La Force, 
that he was to be, in some way, my evil genius, and now he had 
proved it. 

I was silent for a long time, looking down on that great 
river that now lay a silver flood in the moonlight (for the 
harvest moon had come up over the hills as we were thundering 
down that last bit of road together) and seeing only a silver 
blur, for a death-knell had rung in my heart and I was still 
a boy, and the tears lay not so far away as they do now that I 
am nearing the psalmist’s boundary of life. 

There may be those who think I could not have cared very 
greatly. That if three months before one grande passion had 
been breaking my heart, another could not be shattering it 
now. Then if there be any who think so they do not know the 
heart of youth, or they do not know my heart, and most of all 
they do not know the difference between Peggy and Miss 
Desloge. Peggy could inspire a foolish boy’s mad passion, Miss 



I was silent for a long time 












I 


DESPAIR RETURNS WITH ME TO CLERMONT 217 


Desloge could win a man’s most fervent love and truest affec- 
tion. 

And if I sometimes speak of myself as boy and sometimes 
as man, it is because I was both. In this age I would no doubt 
at twenty (I was nearly twenty) seem the veriest boy; in that, 
we were men at eighteen — though not come into our legal 
rights — and often as not married and with families around us 
before we were twenty. Therefore, though there were boyish 
tears in my eyes, I believe it was with a man’s heart that I loved 
Miss Desloge, and though a great despair was in my soul, I 
believe that it was with something of the resolution of a man 
that in a very few moments I got control of my voice and turned 
to her. 

“ It is final, Mademoiselle, and I accept it as such. Your 
countryman is greatly to be congratulated ; perhaps some day I 
shall have conquered this unhappy love to such a degree that 
I may be able to offer him my congratulations in person; shall 
we ride on ? ” 

And as we ambled along quietly together, lingering, that 
those in the rear might overtake us, Mademoiselle talked of 
many things so sweetly, so kindly, and so evidently with inten- 
tion to cheer me, that hope began almost to revive a little under 
her gentle ministrations. 

At last our talk fell on the laying of the corner-stone of the 
new City Hall in New York. It was to take place in a week 
or ten days, and Mayor Livingston was to perform the cere- 
mony. It was to be a great occasion, and it had been our theme 
at Mrs. Montgomery’s dinner table, as it had been our 
theme many times before at Clermont. For we had planned to 
go down, a large party of us, by horseback, for the great occa- 
sion. We were to spend one night at Mrs. Montgomery’s and 
one night at the Van Cortlandt Manor and so break the journey, 
which in the estimation of the younger people of the party was 
to be one grand frolic through the lovely October weather. 

Now as we talked of it, I noted an embarrassment in Miss 
Desloge’s manner that I could not account for. It was I who 
had lost zest — for had I not counted on that long, delightful 


218 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


ride down the picturesque old post road, through the beautiful 
October, and Saladin by Blackbird’s side ? I had lost zest — it 
seemed now but a dismal prospect for me — but Miss Desloge 
was embarrassed. Presently she seemed to screw her courage 
to the point of saying something difficult. 

“ Sir Lionel,” she began, hesitating, “ do you know that Mr. 
Livingston greatly desires that you will not attend the laying 
of the corner-stone ? ” 

“ Mr. Livingston exceeds his privilege ! ” I exclaimed 
haughtily. “ He is, in a sense, my host, but he certainly can- 
not think it is a host’s place to interfere with a guest’s 
pleasures.” 

“No,” said Miss Desloge quickly, “Mr. Livingston would 
never attempt to do that. I am sure he is kindness itself.” 

“Nor need he fear that I will interfere with his,” I went 
on, more haughtily still. “ If he once did me the honor to 
regard me as a rival, I shall take pains to let him understand 
that I am not to be so regarded any longer.” 

“ Sir Lionel ! ” Miss Desloge exclaimed, deeply offended, and 
I was brought to my senses with a shock. 

“ Forgive me, Mademoiselle,” I begged humbly. 

She only noticed my words with a slight nod as she hurried 
on indignantly : 

“You accuse Mr. Livingston of cherishing hopes that have 
never occurred to him. But if he had any such hopes he is 
the last man to use such means of attaining to them. You 
could not be guilty of such a mean spirit, why do you think it 
possible to him ? ” 

“You are right, Mademoiselle, he is the last man I could 
think of as guilty of any meanness,” I answered contritely. 
“ But, Miss Desloge, I was beside myself when I spoke. I am 
not quite responsible, you must understand. And do you know 
any reason why I should not go to New York, or why Mr. 
Livingston should not want me to go ? ” 

She hesitated and another miserable suspicion flashed into 
my mind. 


DESPAIR RETURN'S WITH ME TO CLERMONT 219 


“ Did Mr. Livingston tell you to persuade me not to go ? ” I 
asked sternly. 

“Not — exactly — he said he hoped you would not go and 
— he asked me if I thought I had any influence with you to 
persuade you to stay at Clermont. I told him I would do my 
best, but I see I have no ‘ influence/ I ought not to have 
tried,” giving me a fleeting glimpse of that twinkle as she 
spoke. 

“But, surely, you do not want me to stay away from New 
York, do you, Miss Desloge ? ” 

“ Yes, Sir Lionel,” she answered earnestly, “ I want it very 
much, indeed. I think I am more anxious that you should 
not go down to New York with our party than even Mr. Living- 
ston can be.” 

“ And you will not tell me why ? ” 

“ I cannot tell you why.” 

And all the rest of that beautiful moonlight ride, sometimes 
beside Mademoiselle, sometimes beside Miss Livingston, and 
sometimes riding on ahead fast and furious by myself, I pon- 
dered her words and puzzled my brain to know her reason. 
Sometimes I said to myself bitterly, she wants me out of the 
way when Mr. La Force is there ! but I knew that was an un- 
worthy suspicion and I could find no other reason that satisfied 
me. As we sat around a late supper table, tired and hungry 
from our long ride, but most of the party in the high spirits 
that a day spent in the open always generates, I pondered it 
again under cover of the loud and gay talk and I came to but 
one conclusion : 

Miss Desloge says she does not want me to go down to New 
York with their party — I will obey her to the letter. I will 
not go down with the party (ah, me, for the lovely rides, the 
gay evenings at Montgomery Place and Van Cortlandt Manor 
House that I had been looking forward to with such keen de- 
light) ! I would not go with the party, but I would be at the 
laying of the corner-stone and see for myself why Miss Desloge 
did not want me there. 


XIX 


I DISCOVER WHY MISS DESLOGE BEGGED ME TO STAY IN’ CLERMONT 

I TOLD no one of my plan; I let them think I had acqui- 
esced in Mr. Livingston’s wishes and would stay at Cler- 
mont. That is, I told no one but Mr. Irving and Will Jay, 
and I did not tell them, until I was compelled to. For as soon 
as they heard I was not going to New York with the others 
they both insisted they would stay with me in Clermont; and 
there was no budging them from their determination until I 
confessed to them, confidentially, that I intended to follow the 
party a day later and be present, incog., at the laying of the 
corner-stone. Nor did I feel that in this I was deceiving Mr. 
Livingston. I had not told him I would not go to New York 
— he had not asked that. . He had only asked that I would not 
go down with his party. I believed his reasons for doing so 
had something to do with Miss Desloge, but I felt that, in spite 
of his former kindness and courtesy to me, his later manner 
had freed me from any further allegiance to him than simple 
accordance with the letter of his request. 

As I explained to Will and Mr. Irving, I should mingle with 
the crowd, and, being rather short of stature, I thought I could 
easily lose myself in the throng. Whereupon they both main- 
tained, stoutly, that they too would give out that they would 
remain at Clermont with me, and we would all three ride down 
to New York together, and together be present at the ceremony 
“in disguise,” Irving called it. He was ever eager for adven- 
ture and this seemed to him an enticing one. 

But I would not listen to him. I knew it would be a real 
sacrifice to the gay, pleasure-loving, beauty-adoring Irving to 
miss that journey to New York in the company of the lovely 

220 


WHY MISS DESLOGE BEGGED ME TO STAY 221 


Frenchwoman, and to miss the festivities that had already been 
planned for at Montgomery Place and Yan Cortlandt Manor 
House. I promised to see him in New York at the City Tav- 
ern, where I should put up, but I absolutely refused to allow 
him to stay with me. With Will I was not so firm; if he really 
wanted to wait for me, there was no reason why he should not, 
and I liked the boy and would be glad of his company. 

If anyone who reads this has ever been shut up in a house 
for a week with a young lady he is madly in love with, who 
has rejected him as a lover and yet is all sweetness and gentle- 
ness when she meets him, he can have some faint idea of what 
I went through the next week. There were times when I was 
in the blackest despair; there were times when I said to myself 
— - She is a false-hearted coquette ; I would not have her if I 
might; then there were times, when I believed there was still 
hope for me, but there never was a moment when I was not 
so absorbed in thoughts of her that I could think of little else ; 
so given up to planning ways of seeing her and talking with 
her that I was good for nothing else. It was almost a relief 
when the moment came for departure and Will and I waved 
a farewell from the terraces in front of the house as the little 
company of five cantered down the avenue of maples toward 
the great gates. Their party was to be .increased at Mont- 
gomery Place and, indeed, all along the route; by the time 
they reached the city, it would no doubt be a throng. 

It was a lonely day and evening that we two spent in the 
big house by ourselves. I was poor company for the lad, though 
I made every effort to amuse him, for my heart was lead in my 
bosom. In my thoughts I was following Mademoiselle Desloge 
every step of the way. I seemed to know exactly when Mr. 
Livingston rode by her side and when he gave up his place to 
Mr. Irving. I followed them through the ford at White Clay 
Kill and I cantered by Miss Desloge’s side up the avenue of 
elms to the broad piazza where Mrs. Montgomery stood await- 
ing her guests ; and, in fancy, I heard her inquiries why I was 
absent and heard Mr. Livingston’s lame excuses. But most of 
all through the evening did my spirit haunt the great hall at 


222 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


Montgomery Place and see Miss Desloge walk, hand in hand, 
through stately minuets and formal cotillions, with the young 
squires from the neighboring country seats. For it had been 
part of the plan of festivities that there should be a dance at 
Montgomery Place and I was very sure Miss Desloge would 
be the belle of the ball, eagerly sought after by every young 
American with eyes in his head, or wit in his brains, or music 
in his heels. 

Whether Will did not notice my abstraction, against which 
I made tremendous struggles, or whether he was too polite to 
appear to notice it, I could not be sure, but I thought he was 
not sorry when I proposed an early bed hour since we were to 
make an early start in the morning, as was necessary if we 
would accomplish with ease the long ride to Tarrytown, where 
we were to put up for the night. My spirits rose as I found 
myself on the road following in her footsteps, and every step 
of the way my heart grew lighter. There was* something, no 
doubt, in the intoxicating October air and the amazing beauty 
of river and shore that drove despair from a man’s heart. I 
began to believe my case could not be altogether hopeless. Did 
not a woman always say “ no ” at first? Was not a maiden 
always to be wooed before she was won ? I had not half wooed 
her. No doubt I had made my declaration too suddenly — 
she was not prepared. I could not expect her to be so rashly 
and entirely infatuated as I on such short acquaintance. I 
would note the expression in her countenance when I should 
come upon her unexpectedly in New York. Perhaps I might 
surprise the light of gladness in her eyes, for it is at such mo- 
ments that the eyes speak more truly than the lips. 

Yet always when I was comforting myself with such thoughts 
and resolving upon a more determined suit when I should 
again see Miss Desloge in New York, there came the remem- 
brance of that one sentence — “ I will never marry any man 
but one of my own countrymen” — and in a moment all my 
elation left me to the prey of dull despair. It was in that mood 
I rode out of the courtyard of Van Tassel’s Inn near Tarry- 
town the next morning, Will and Scipio following me and 


WHY MISS DESLOGE BEGGED ME TO STAY 223 


their horses 5 hoofs making a cheerful clatter on the granite 
cobbles of the court. The dawn was a pale gray streak in the 
east, a disreputable old moon leered at me over the ridge of 
the quaint, ivy-clad Sleepy Hollow church, and I looked around 
among the venerable headstones in the little churchyard, more 
than half expecting to see the headless horseman careering 
over the graves. For the first time I began to feel some mis- 
givings as to the wisdom of my insisting on going to Hew York 
against the advice of my friends. Mr. Livingston was not the 
man to request me to remain in Clermont without some 
solid reason for so doing, and to have suspected Miss Desloge 
of any such petty motive as desiring to have me out of the way 
of my successful rival was unworthy of myself and an insult 
to her. There was some reason why I ought not to go to Hew 
York; some reason for their earnest entreaties — for Made- 
moiselle had, indeed, implored me not to go. Perhaps some 
peril lay in wait for me there from which my friends would 
save me. 

I think had I remained many minutes longer in this frame 
of mind I would have wheeled Saladin and galloped back to 
Clermont. But the gray dawn brightened to rose, the leering 
old moon paled beneath the rays of the rising sun, Will cantered 
up to my side and challenged me to a race, and I threw fore- 
bodings to the winds. 

That night we spent at Bedford House, Wilks home, and 
there I met his mother, the famous beauty of the Eepublican 
Court. These Livingstons were a handsome race, but Mrs. Jay 
was the beauty par excellence of the family. Her sister, Mrs. 
Kitty Livingston, was gay and charming, and her cousins, 
Mrs. Montgomery and my Miss Livingston of Clermont, were 
beautiful and fascinating women, but not one of them had the 
graceful bearing, the faultless features, the beaming eye and 
dazzling smile of this regal creature. I could easily under- 
stand the story often told of her, that once, on entering the 
opera house in Paris, the whole audience rose, taking her for 
the youthful queen, Marie Antoinette. That was many years 
before and she was no longer youthful, but she was in the 


224 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


rich maturity of those charms that had made her famous in 
England, France and America. 

Will was proud of his beautiful mother, as well he might 
be, and I did not doubt that it was for the sake of showing her 
to me that he had insisted on our spending the night at Bed- 
ford House, which was somewhat out of our direct course to 
the city. Of his father I stood a little in awe, for he had the 
dignity of bearing proper to a statesman of his repute, though 
he was sufficiently gracious to Will’s friend, as he was pleased 
to call me. Once only did he thoroughly unbend to me, but 
when he did, he charmed and fascinated me as few women 
have done. 

Bedford House was almost the most beautiful, both for situ- 
ation and for grace of architecture, of any of the American 
places I had yet seen. To stand on the terrace before the house, 
where the mile-long avenue of elms began, was to look off over 
a rolling country of meadow-land and rich forests, watered by 
countless winding streams and bounded in one direction by the 
broad waters of the Sound and in the other by the stately 
Hudson, bearing on its bosom many white-sailed sloops and 
schooners on their way to and from the great city — for so all 
good Americans regard the thriving town of New York. The 
house itself was low and broad, a mingling of several styles, 
I should think, and covered by a beautiful ivy, differing much 
from our English ivy, and already turning in places to a rich 
crimson that gave the house the effect of being carved from a 
glowing ruby set in dark porphyry. The library occupied an 
entire wing and had been built on by Mr. Jay. It was a noble 
room, with one rounded end in which was built a fireplace wide 
enough to hold our English yule logs with ease. The room 
was lined with bookcases holding Mr. Jay’s fine library con- 
taining many rare editions, at sight of- which my old love of 
books returned with a rush, and had I been greatly urged at 
that moment to stay at Bedford House, and been given the free- 
dom of this room, whose rich mahogany furnishings, luxurious 
reading chairs, and the flames blazing and leaping up the wide 
throat of the chimney (for the evening was a frosty one) made 


WHY MISS DESLOGE BEGGED ME TO STAY 225 


it an enchanting room to a book-lover, I think I might easily 
have given up my Hew York trip. 

But that moment passed. Later, when we had climbed a 
lofty hill near the house and Will, eagerly pointing out to me 
the objects of interest in the landscape, showed me, to the 
southwest, where the East Biver met the Sound, a glittering 
dot that he said was the cross on Trinity Church shining in 
the evening sun, Mr. Jay turned to me with his polite hope 
that I would spend some time with them. But the flashing 
spire of Trinity had proved a beacon light to my desire. Hot 
far from that spot Mademoiselle Desloge was perhaps at this 
moment arriving, or already arrived, and resting from the 
fatigue of her long journey. I thanked Mr. Jay, but said it 
was imperative that I should be in Hew York the next after- 
noon. Whereupon, sending Will off on some pretext, after we 
had returned to the terrace by the house, he asked me to come 
with him for a moment into the library, he had something he 
wished to say. We had only to step through a low window 
directly into the room and when we had taken deep-armed, 
leather-cushioned chairs drawn up on either side of the blazing 
fire, he began at once, and there was no longer any hint of that 
stateliness of manner that had so awed me at first. He was, 
as I have said before, charming and fascinating to a degree 
I have found in few women; and with a winning tact not to 
be surpassed by any woman, he quickly drew from me the 
innermost secret of my heart. 

“ My dear Sir Lionel,” he began, “ I am an old man in com- 
parison with your youth, and you are in a strange land; you 
will not be offended, I hope, if I take upon myself an old man’s 
privilege of giving you some advice ? ” 

I assured him that I would be very grateful for the advice, 
though I would not permit him to call himself an old man, 
and indeed he was as handsome and as youthful-looking for a 
man of middle age as I have often seen. 

“ Will tells me,” he continued, “ that you and he are travel- 
ing alone to Hew York because Mr. Livingston desired you to 
remain at Clermont, and while you did not promise, I gather 
i5 


226 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


that you allowed him to think that you were doing so when you 
permitted the party to start for New York without you. Am 
I right ? ” 

I felt myself flushing painfully. I had thought of my trip 
to New York in the light of an adventure. Mr. Jay made me 
feel that my action was little less than dishonorable. 

“ I had not intended to deceive Mr. Livingston/’ I stam- 
mered. “ I think his only reason for not wishing me to go to 
New York is that for some cause he no longer finds my presence 
as agreeable as he did at first. I have no intention of forcing 
myself upon his society in New York; indeed, he need not know 
I am in the city, and in that way, I think I can gratify his 
desire for my absence quite as well as if I had remained at 
Clermont.” 

Mr. Jay looked profoundly astonished at my speech, which 
I can now see was a remarkable one. 

“ Sir Lionel,” he said, after a moment’s silence, “ do you 
know of any reason why Mr. Livingston should find your society 
no longer agreeable ? ” 

“ I know of no reason; I can only conjecture one.” My face 
was burning and I could not lift my eyes to Mr. J ay’s. 

“ Would you mind telling me your conjectures?” he asked 
so gently and with such a persuasive tone that I glanced up 
at him, and the smile in his kind eyes won me. I blurted out 
my secret in hot and angry haste. 

“ Mr. Livingston,” I said, “ was courtesy itself to me — no 
father could have been kinder — until he became interested in 
a young lady in whom I also am deeply interested. And al- 
though I have no claims upon the young lady and not the least 
chance of success with her, I cannot but think he thought his 
own chances better in my absence than in my presence.” 

Mr. Jay’s look of astonishment had increased to dismay. 

“ Edward Livingston in love ! ” he ejaculated. 

“Why not, sir? He is still young; a charming man and, 
what I have often heard is most potent with the ladies, a 
widower,” I said sullenly. 


WHY MISS DESLOGE BEGGED ME TO STAY 227 


Mr. Jay gazed at the fire a full minute before he turned to 
me again, but his look of dismay had given place to a cordial 
smile when he began to speak. 

“ And so, my dear young sir, you think all is fair in love ? ” 

It was impossible to resist his smile, but I blushed again as 
I answered, “ Yes, sir.” 

“ And so it is ! ” he exclaimed heartily. “ And if you are 
right in your conjectures, I cannot blame you for following 
my cousin and the young lady to Hew York; but, the more I 
think of it, the more I am convinced there must be some mis- 
take. Mr. Livingston was very deeply attached to his wife, but 
of course I know it is possible for a man to love the second 
time, and no doubt the young lady is very beautiful and charm- 
ing.” 

“ More so than anyone I have ever known,” I interrupted 
with conviction. 

“ Well, take it for granted our cousin has succumbed to her 
charms,” he smiled sympathetically, “that does not explain 
his taking such an unfair advantage of you as to use his au- 
thority as host in persuading you to stay in Clermont and give 
him all the opportunities and advantages of that trip to Hew 
York in the company of the fair lady. Mr. Edward Living- 
ston is not so known to me, Sir Lionel. He is the soul of 
courtesy and of honor. I do not believe it would be possible 
to him to use such means to advance his suit. I believe, in- 
stead, that he knows of some peril lying in wait for you in 
Hew York, and it is for your own sake that he begs you to 
remain at Clermont. Will you stay with us at Bedford House 
instead ? ” 

“ Mr. J ay,” I answered, “ I may have wronged Mr. Living- 
ston — I hope I have ; for he seemed to me as you have described 
him, the soul of courtesy and honor, and, in spite of my resent- 
ment at his apparent discourtesy, I still feel for him an admira- 
tion somewhat akin to hero-worship, for a hero he proved 
himself through the yellow fever. But if it is only some peril 
to myself he fears, I think I have every right to follow my own 


228 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


will. I know no fear, nor, indeed, any reason for fear, and 
I have a very great desire to be present in New York at the 
laying of the corner-stone.” 

Mr. J ay rose from his seat and grasped my hand. 

“ Sir Lionel,” he said, “ I am almost sure you are doing a 
foolish thing, such confidence have I in Mr. Livingston’s judg- 
ment, but I am not going to try to persuade you further. In 
fact, I rather like your British obstinacy. I shall send Will 
with you to New York, not because I think he would be much 
help in danger, but he could at least be a messenger to inform 
your friends of your safety or your peril. And, since it is 
quite time he was on his way back to school in New Haven, 
New York will not be far out of the way.” 

How often in the next few days I wished I had heeded the 
request of Mr. Livingston, the entreaties of Mademoiselle and 
the advice of Mr. Jay. I believe most of my troubles in life 
have grown out of my obstinacy in pursuing my own course 
in opposition to the expressed wish of friends, but then some 
of my greatest successes have resulted from the same trait also, 
and, perhaps, while obstinacy is one of my greatest faults, it 
may also be one of my virtues. 

We were later in arriving in the city than we had intended. 
A great throng filled the little park where the corner-stone 
was to be laid. I had not thought the town held so many 
people. But Will told me proudly that there were nearly sixty 
thousand people in the city, and, great as the throng seemed, 
it certainly did not nearly reach that number. We had left 
our horses with Scipio near the Freshwater Pond and Mr. Liv- 
ingston was just rising to speak as we slipped in among the 
straggling fringes of the crowd. I do not think he saw us 
and my glance sped past him to a group seated on the platform 
near him. In the center of the group sat Miss Desloge, Irving 
on one side of her, La Force on the other, each wearing an air 
of gallantry and devotion. As my glance fell on her, her eyes 
met mine. She started slightly, but there was no light of glad 
surprise in her eyes as I had fondly hoped; instead, a dismay, 


WHY MISS DESLOGE BEGGED ME TO STAY 229 


that amounted almost to terror, widened them to a painful 
stare. In a moment, she recovered herself and turned with an 
air of nervously eager interest to answer some speech Mr. La 
Force addressed to her, but not, I believe, before he had noted 
her startled glance and discovered its cause. ISTot that I could 
perceive that he had discovered it. He did not seem to glance 
in my direction, and since I had a feeling, wholly unaccounta- 
ble, that he was not to be trusted and that he had designs of 
some kind against me, I kept in the thickest of the throng, 
with men who towered head and shoulders above me between 
me and the line of his vision. Yet once the man in front of 
me stepped aside and disclosed Mr. La Force’s seat on the 
platform vacant and Mademoiselle’s glances scanning the 
throng before her restlessly and eagerly, I thought, and I could 
not reason myself out of a vague feeling of uneasiness. 

I was hardly as surprised, therefore, as I might otherwise 
have been, when a hand was suddenly laid on my shoulder from 
behind me and a voice spoke low in my ear : 

“ I hope you will make no disturbance, Sir Lionel, but come 
with me quietly to the Bridewell yonder; I hold a warrant for 
your arrest in my pocket.” 

I glanced up quickly. A big, burly constable looked down 
into my eyes with a glance of steely determination that con- 
vinced me at once that resistance was useless. He wore no 
uniform, but, as I hesitated a moment, he opened his coat 
slightly and displayed his officer’s badge. 

Involuntarily I glanced around for Mr. La Force. He was 
nowhere in sight. Will, on the other side of me and wholly 
engrossed in Mr. Livingston’s speech, which, though the atten- 
tion I had been able to give it was but broken and distracted, 
I had yet discovered to be an eloquent one — had noticed noth- 
ing of what was happening to me. I turned to him and spoke 
low and hurriedly: 

“Will, do not turn your head nor show any signs of excite- 
ment. I am arrested — I do not know for what, but I think 
it best to go quietly with the constable. As soon as the cere- 


230 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


monies are over, inform Mr. Livingston and bring him to the 
Bridewell, if he will come. Send Scipio and Saladin to the 
City Tavern. Good-by, my lad.” 

Will clutched the hand I extended to him convulsively, but 
turned toward me with an almost preternatural air of indif- 
ference, though his face was pale and his eyes were burning. 

“ The Bridewell ! ” he gasped in a choked voice. “ You shall 
not sleep there. Sir Lionel — it must be all some horrible mis- 
take.” 

“ Yes, I am sure of it,” I answered. “ But do not take it 
too much to heart — it is bound to be cleared up as soon as 
I see Mr. Livingston.” 

Sauntering, with assumed carelessness, along the fringes of 
the throng toward the Bridewell, I saw Will slipping through 
the crowd and hurrying toward the tall Lombardy poplar where 
Scipio was holding our horses, and I was glad that his father 
had let him come with me to New York. In this strange new 
land, in this startling experience, I would indeed have felt for- 
lorn and friendless but for this boy of sixteen. 

Then my glance flew across the heads of the listening thou- 
sands to the platform. No one had noticed my arrest. It had 
been cleverly done without making the slightest stir. Not a 
man, as far as I knew, had interrupted his rapt listening to 
the speaker long enough to turn his head and gaze curiously 
at the ill-assorted pair — the burly officer of the peace and the 
slender stripling at his side, with his head in the air, whistling 
under his breath an air from Don Giovanni with a gayety the 
most casual observer, had there been any, must have seen was 
forced. 

Straight over the heads of that careless throng my glance 
met another glance, seeking mine. I could not have told from 
the distance of the platform, had I not already known it, that 
the beautiful eyes into which I was looking were a winey brown, 
but expression carries farther than color. I could not mistake 
the look of concern, deepening to terror, in those eyes, and I 
knew two things: 

One, that I had another friend beside that lad of sixteen, 


WHY MISS DESLOGE BEGGED ME TO STAY 231 


who would leave no stone unturned to help me; and the other 
was that Mademoiselle Desloge knew why I was arrested though 
1 did not ; and the knowledge froze her very glance with terror, 
while it did not for a moment shake her trust in me. 


XX 


THE SWEETS OF ADVERSITY 

I PEAY that no friend of mine may ever descend into such 
black depths as I explored for the next three hours. I had 
confidently expected William to be back in a few minutes, 
bringing Mr. Livingston with him, and Irving also, no doubt, 
and that they would hasten to furnish bond for me and set me 
free. I could not believe that a son of my father, that any 
descendant of the Marchmonts, should ever spend a night in 
a common jail. But as the minutes wore away to quarters, to 
halves and then to hours, with no word from any of those I 
had called my friends, I began to believe that I had been de- 
serted — that William, whom I had watched hurrying toward 
Scipio and the horses, was only hurrying to save himself ; that 
Mr. Livingston and Mr. Irving were wholly indifferent to my 
fate; that Mademoiselle Desloge was rather glad than other- 
wise to have me safely out of Mr. La Force’s way. 

But always when I arrived at this point in my bitter medi- 
tations, I stopped short. No, I could not believe such baseness 
of Mademoiselle. Let all the world be false she, I could swear, 
was true to such friendliness as she was willing to grant me — 
as she had proved in this very matter of her earnest entreaty 
of me not to come to New York. If I had only listened to 
those entreaties ! No, she might be unwilling to yield me more 
than her friendship, but loyal friend I could never doubt her 
to be. 

As the hours wore away I sank into lower and lower depths 
of despondency. What would my father say, when he should 
hear that his only son, the heir of Clover Combe Court, had 
lain for weeks in an American jail; for it would be weeks 

232 


THE SWEETS OF ADVERSITY 


233 


before he could hear of my plight, and weeks more before the 
aid he would swiftly send could reach me and liberate me. 
In the bitterness of my soul, I had begun to believe no one in 
America would stir a finger to relieve a hapless English lad 
whom they believed guilty of so base a crime. How I under- 
stood Mr. Livingston’s sudden coldness and averted looks. 
They had dated from his first visit to his office, and if he 
believed me guilty of the crime of which I was accused, then 
I did not wonder and I could not blame. But I grew hot at 
the thought. How could any man dare to believe me guilty! 
These Americans had little generosity and less chivalry to be- 
lieve so easily a baseless accusation. 

For I knew, now, of what crime I was accused and who was 
my accuser. There had been a preliminary examination — a 
preliminary farce, I called it — before I was consigned to my 
cell in the Bridewell, and it was Mr. La Force, as I knew it 
would be, who answered the question — “ Of what is the pris- 
oner accused, and who accuses him ? ” 

“ Of embezzling the city’s money, your Honor, and I make 
the charge in Mr. Livingston’s name. I am Mr. Livingston’s 
private secretary.” 

Then followed a number of questions to which I was too 
indignant to make suitable answer, or any answer at all part 
of the time. It was a foolish way of giving vent to my temper, 
for the judge, who at first was inclined to be lenient, losing his 
patience, at last, ordered me off to a cell, when I might, per- 
haps, by a more pacificatory course, have secured for myself 
temporary accommodations with the jailer. 

It had been mid-afternoon, the early October sun shining 
brilliantly, when I entered the gloomy doors of the Bridewell; 
the evening shades had fallen when the key turned in the lock, 
my door was thrown open and I was conducted by the turnkey 
back to the room where I had passed my preliminary exam- 
ination. Candles were already lighted in this room, and com- 
ing from the gloom of my cell my eyes were dazed for a mo- 
ment, and to my confused senses the room seemed crowded with 
people. William was the first to rush forward and seize my 


234 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


right hand, and Irving, not far behind him, grasped the other. 
Irving was the first to speak : 

“It is an outrage, Sir Lionel! Whoever is accountable for 
this shall suffer for it ! " he exclaimed hotly. 

“ They arrested me, too, Sir Lionel," William exclaimed 
eagerly, almost in the same breath with Irving, “ or I would 
have been here long ago. They called me particeps criminis, 
or something like that, and they kept me so long, badgering 
me with questions, that by the time they let me go — I told 
them I was John Jay's son and I would tell father, if they 
did n't ! — by that time, Mayor Livingston had gone off some- 
where, and I had a hard time finding him. But he's here 
now and he '11 have you out in a jiffy." 

I laughed at the boy's naivete, and so did the others, and 
in the chorus of laughter I noted a silvery peal that set my 
blood to tingling, though I would not look in the direction 
from which it came. 

“Thank you, William," I began; “I was sure you would 
not fail me." But Mayor Livingston came up at this moment 
with an outstretched hand, though an air of embarrassment sat 
oddly with his effort at cordiality. 

“ It is an outrage, Sir Lionel, as Mr. Irving says, but I fear 
I am not so powerful as young William Jay thinks me. I 
have been talking to Justice Smith here and he intimates that 
I am the last man to be interceding for you; that I should 
either be your accuser or take my place beside you on the 
culprit's bench. God knows, my dear young sir," he added 
fervently, “I would rather be in the Bridewell than have you 
here on my account, for the very fact that you would not heed 
my warning not to come to New York convinces me of your 
innocence in this matter." 

My heart sank with every word he uttered. I had thought 
with young William, that now Mayor Livingston had come, I 
would be set free at once. Surely he was the most powerful 
man in the city, and surely he must know I could not be guilty 
of taking the city's money. He had said nothing about set- 
ting me free on bond and now I stammered forth a hint that 


THE SWEETS OP ADVERSITY 


235 


I hoped there might be someone in the city who would be will- 
ing to go on the bond of my father’s son. 

He answered me so sadly that for the moment I forgot my 
own suffering in sympathy for him. 

“For evident reasons, my dear Sir Lionel, I could not go 
on your bond even had I the means to do so. Until this debt 
to the city is paid, I have not a cent I can call my own. My 
houses, my horses, my land, even my furniture and most of 
my personal belongings have been turned over to the city within 
the last two weeks. I am at present but a guest in the house 
where you and I were ill. But though I cannot go on your 
bond myself, I called at the homes of two of my friends on 
my way here, and they have come with me, eager to do what 
they can to set you free.” 

I had noted two gentlemen talking earnestly, and at mo- 
ments excitedly, with the justice of the peace. Now, as Mr. 
Livingston spoke, they came forward, and Mr. Livingston pre- 
sented me to them — a Mr. Roosevelt and a Mr. Bleecker, both 
evidently men of property and of influence, and both most 
courteous to me. 

“But Justice Smith insists,” said Mr. Roosevelt, when the 
first greetings and expressions of sympathy from them were 
over, “that this, being an offense against the State, does not 
allow the prisoner to be admitted to bail. Mayor Livingston, 
you can surely set him right on that point ? ” 

But Mayor Livingston, being well versed in the law, could 
only admit that the justice was right, but that he hoped, the 
circumstances being peculiar, that the strict letter of the law 
might be interpreted more leniently. The three gentlemen set 
themselves to argue the matter once more and I could hear Mr. 
Roosevelt say, “We will gladly double the bond,” but the jus- 
tice was evidently immovable. 

In the meantime, I could not refrain from glancing toward 
the corner whence I had heard that silvery peal of laughter. 
Miss Desloge was there and Miss Livingston and another lady 
whom I thought was Mrs. Montgomery, but could not be sure, 
since she stood outside the circle of candle-light. They were 


236 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


holding a whispered consultation, but Miss Desloge looked up 
as I glanced at them and smiled and bowed with great sweet- 
ness. I was embarrassed, no doubt, by my position, railed off 
from my friends and a jailer by my side, and so I did not 
return the smile and my bow was frigid, I fear. Moreover, I 
looked quickly away, though not before I had caught the swift 
look of pain that swept into her eyes. I was much startled, 
therefore, when, a moment later, I felt a light touch on my 
sleeve, and looking quickly around found Mademoiselle stand- 
ing just outside the railing, her hand resting on my arm. 

“ Sir Lionel," she said softly, “ it is very dreadful, but do 
not be discouraged ; it will come out all right — I know” 

There was something in the sparkle of her eye and the firm 
set of her scarlet lips that convinced me she did know. How, 
I could not guess, but she inspired me with such courage that 
all my despair took flight, and with a good heart I thanked 
her for her faith in me and for her coming to me in my hour 
of trouble. 

“ Faith in you ! " she echoed with a kind of wonder in her 
voice. “Why, even if I did not know , as I do, no one could 
doubt you for a moment — least of all, I." 

Her “least of all, I," was very pleasant to hear, but the 
only answer I made her was a smile of thanks straight into 
her warm brown eyes, for at that moment Miss Livingston and 
Mrs. Montgomery came up, and professed to make light of the 
whole affair — for my sake, I knew. 

“Let me shake hands with you, Sir Lionel," said Miss Liv- 
ingston ; “ I am dying to shake hands with a real live prisoner. 
I never did, you know." 

“ I am glad you said 6 prisoner/ and not ‘ criminal/ Miss 
Livingston," I answered, giving her hand a very hearty squeeze, 
for I liked her coming to my support while I was under sus- 
picion. 

“ Criminal ! Pooh ! " she answered. “No one could possibly 
think of you as a criminal, Sir Lionel." 

“ It 's a martyr and a hero these girls will be making of you 
now, Sir Lionel," laughed Mrs. Montgomery. “ I think you 


THE SWEETS OF ADVERSITY 


237 


were attractive enough before, with your bel air and your beaux 
yeux, but the whole city will be running mad after you now 
that you have contrived such a romantic experience.” 

“Not of my contriving, Mrs. Montgomery. The gods for- 
fend ! ” I exclaimed. 

“ Oh, perhaps not, but you cannot say that it was not well 
contrived to make you even more interesting to the maidens, if 
that were possible. What with posing first as a yellow fever 
invalid and now as a victim of false imprisonment, you must 
admit you are being most romantic as well as having all kinds 
of adventures, such as I understand your father sent you to 
America to seek.” 

I laughed, for the good humor of her raillery was contagious. 

“I don’t believe either yellow fever or imprisonment for 
stealing was in the category of adventures my father planned 
for me,” I answered. 

“ No,” she replied, no longer laughing, and with a cordial 
earnestness I liked much, “but if you bear the imprisonment 
with the firmness and courage with which you bore the other, 
they will both go far toward developing character, and that, 
I suppose, was your father’s real reason for sending you to us.” 

And then the three gentlemen came back and there was not 
much encouragement to be read in their countenances; Mr. 
Roosevelt looked irascible, Mr. Bleecker disappointed, and 
Mr. Livingston deeply grieved. It was he who spoke : 

“We cannot move the justice in the matter of bail, Sir 
Lionel; I fear you will have to put up with prison quarters 
for a while. Prison fare you shall not be reduced to; we will 
see that you have something to eat.” 

And, in fact, while he was still speaking, Scipio and another 
colored boy entered, bearing a great hamper between them, 
the contents of which were presently set out. And there being 
enough delicacies of all kinds in the hamper to provision a 
garrison, and the jailer being amiable, I was permitted to eat 
a somewhat belated dinner in his living-room, in the company 
of my friends. And in spite of the fact that a guard stood in 
the room, and that there was great indignation and some de« 


238 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


spondency lurking in the back of my mind, I have seldom 
eaten a merrier meal. 

But to go back to Mayor Livingston's speech, which the 
entrance of the hamper did not interrupt as I have interrupted 
it. He told me that though he could not persuade the justice 
to admit me to bail, he had yet been able to persuade him that 
my case should be placed early on the docket. That he himself 
should at once attend to securing the best of counsel for me, 
and that just as soon as the case could be prepared, witnesses 
found, etc., it should go to trial, so that I might expect a very 
short stay in the Bridewell. 

He spoke as if there was no doubt at all of my acquittal, 
and, indeed, I did not see how there could be, except that, 
possibly, in a new country, justice might be more easily per- 
verted than at home, and — I had such a strong distrust of 
Mr. La Force and such a wholesome dread of his skill in accom- 
plishing his nefarious purposes. 

When my friends left me, I went back to my cell, which 
was horribly dirty, ill-ventilated and ill-lighted, and lay down 
on my hard pallet in a quieter frame of mind than I could have 
believed possible a few hours before. Nay, it was more than 
calmness, it was with a near approach to happiness that I lay 
looking at the pointers in Charles' Wain twinkling through my 
high, barred window. For Mademoiselle had come to me on 
leaving, and with the sweetest smile in her eyes she had whis- 
pered, “ Bemember, you are not to worry, for I know” 

And surely I had felt a gentle pressure of her little hand 
returning my fervent one. If only she were an English lass! 
For even to win Mademoiselle I could not wish myself a French- 
man. 


XXI 


MR. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGERS 

I T seemed that instead of these Americans being lacking in 
chivalry and generosity, as I had mentally accused them, 
they were the soul of both. I was given to understand that 
there was a rush of the most eminent counsel offering their 
services in my behalf. Even the Vice-president himself sent 
me word that, did not his official position prevent, nothing 
would have given him more delight than to take up the cudgels 
in my behalf. This, in face of the fact that Mr. La Force 
was a close friend of Mr. Burr. But then, I think, both Mr. 
Burr and Mr. Livingston believed Mr. La Force to be mistaken, 
but not malignant. They considered that he had been led 
astray by a peculiar net of circumstances, and they looked upon 
his action in accusing me merely as evidence of his over-zeal 
in his employer’s service. 

It was Mr. Hamilton, the great Hamilton, who was finally 
decided upon to conduct my defense, and opposed to him was 
the prosecuting attorney who had a reputation for skill, espe- 
cially in the matter of conducting a cross-examination, almost 
equal to Hamilton’s. 

A great throng crowded the room where the trial was held, 
which was a large upper chamber in that very City Hall where 
I had spent two days in the mayor’s office, and where I was 
supposed to have committed my crime. I could not, for a while, 
lift my eyes to face that curious throng, but, bethinking me 
that my downcast eyes might be taken by some as evidence of 
guilt, I found the courage to raise them and look calmly over 
the room. My soul shrank when I noted many women, and 
for a long time I would not look at any woman, fearing I 
would meet Miss Livingston’s mocking gaze or Mademoiselle’s 

259 


24 : 0 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


pitying one. But after a while I was as powerfully impelled 
to look as I had been to refrain from looking, and I soon dis- 
covered the party of my friends, Irving and William and 
Kemble and every one of the Lads of Kilkenny, a little coterie 
surrounding a group of women, where I soon recognized Mrs. 
Hamilton's sweet, motherly face, Mrs. Theodosia Burr Alston's 
brilliant one, the beautiful Mrs. Montgomery and the laughing, 
sparkling Miss Livingston. Each one as she caught my eye 
sent me a swift little nod or smile or wave of a wdiite hand, 
betokening friendliness, but among that group of friends I 
searched in vain for Mademoiselle. I hardly knew whether to 
be pleased or hurt by her absence. Did it denote an unwilling- 
ness to be witness to my disgrace, or an indifference to my fate ? 
I could hardly believe the latter in the face of her words to 
me in the Bridewell, and on the whole I was glad she was not 
there. 

The time of preparation for the trial had been incredibly 
short, as I had known trials in England. It was just one 
week from the day of my arrest that I found myself sitting 
in the prisoner's box in that crowded room and awaiting that 
opening question of the trial — “ Guilty or not guilty ? " 

I was startled at my own voice, for I had intended to speak 
quietly, and my “Not guilty" rang out as I had not expected 
it to do. It roused me from the apathy into which 1 had sunk 
at sight of the crowded court-room, and I determined to fol- 
low my own trial keenly. Not one point made by either side 
should escape me, and if I discovered anything which I thought 
could in any way be a help to my case I should communicate 
it to my counsel, who sat conveniently near me. 

I confess the opening speech of the prosecuting attorney 
appalled me and I could see it made a decided impression upon 
the jurors, twelve sturdy-looking yeomen, who looked sufficiently 
honest and intelligent, but who, I feared, were not free from 
the natural prejudice every American feels toward a Briton. 

“ The state will prove by its witnesses," said the prosecuting 
attorney, “that a very large sum of the city's money disap- 
peared from the mayor's office during his illness; that its 


MR. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGERS 


241 


disappearance was discovered just after the prisoner had been 
left in sole charge of the office for several days with the keys 
to the money vaults in his possession; that immediately after 
his occupancy of the mayor’s office he was noticed to be very 
free with American money, whereas up to that time he had 
only English money in his possession; and finally, that his 
previous record is a dubious one : he was sent to this country 
either as a fugitive from justice at home or in the hope of 
reforming him by a lengthened absence from corrupting asso- 
ciations in his native land.” 

At this last accusation I must indeed have looked the crim- 
inal they charged me with being, for I turned scarlet with 
shame. But catching Irving’s eye, in swift pantomime he 
expressed his pretended horror at this exposure of my true 
character, and Miss Livingston, who sat beside him, put on 
such a preternaturally sober look and shook her head at me so 
solemnly that I smiled in spite of myself. A smile of which 
the prosecuting attorney took quick advantage by expressing 
the “ sorrow one must naturally feel at seeing so young a crim- 
inal so hardened to all sense of shame.” 

The judge, I think, had seen Irving’s pantomime and the 
effect it produced upon me, for he spoke sharply to the assem- 
bly. If he discovered any further attempts among the spec- 
tators at trying to communicate with the prisoner by signs, 
he would have the court-room cleared at once. Even then Irv- 
ing could not refrain from bestowing upon me a solemn wink, 
but I maintained the face of a sphinx and set myself in earnest 
to the work of listening. 

For the prosecuting attorney was, calling his, first witness, 
who, he said, would testify to the reasons for my being sent 
from home. I was curious enough to know who could testify 
to that. I had told no one but Mademoiselle, and I was quite 
sure she was not going to betray my confidence, made to her 
on the way home from Montgomery Place. Nor did I see 
what bearing on the case my affair with Peggy would have, if 
she should. 

To my amazement it was my old friend Captain Skinner 

i6 


242 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


of the Sea Gull who was called. He was a most unwilling 
witness, that was evident, and he sought my face on his entry 
into the witness box with a glance full of apology. Every 
word was pulled from him as with a dentist’s forceps. I am 
sure he would have helped my case more, if he had been a more 
willing witness; he had all the air of having some damaging 
testimony he wished to conceal. 

“ Do you know the prisoner ? ” demanded the attorney. 

“ Waal, slightly, yer Honor,” replied the witness. 

“ Reserve ‘ Your Honor ’ for the Court,” said the attorney 
sharply, and went on: “ Where did you first meet the pris- 
oner ? ” 

“ Aboard the Sea Gull , yer — ” He gulped and stopped 
short. The jury tittered. 

“ Who was with the prisoner when you met him ? ” 

“ Another gentleman, ef I recolleck rightly.” 

“ Was this other gentleman his father? ” 

“ Waal — he might have been.” 

“ Did you not know that he was ? ” 

“ Waal — yes — I calkelate I did.” 

“Did you have any conversation with this young gentleman 
when you first met him ? ” 

“ I reckon I passed the time o’ day with him.” 

“ Please do not ‘ reckon ’ or < calculate ’ in your answers, but 
tell me exactly what you remember, all you remember, and no 
more,” said the attorney sharply. 

“Yaas, sir,” said the captain with a droll glance at me 
that set some of the men in the jury to tittering again. The 
attorney saw and was irritated, as the manner of his next ques- 
tion betrayed. 

“ Did you or did you not at any time have any private 
conversation with the prisoner’s father ? ” 

The captain hesitated. 

“Well? A little quicker, if you please, Captain Skinner,” 
snapped the attorney. 

“ I ’m tryin’ to recolleck, sir. It kinder seems to me I did,” 
drawled the captain. 


ME. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGEES 


243 


“ Tell the Court, if you please, the nature of that conversa- 
tion.” 

“ It was private, sir,” responded the captain in his slow 
drawl, but with a twinkling eye, and this time some of the jury 
snickered aloud, and some of the spectators guffawed. 

“ Order ! ” shouted the officer of the court, and the attorney 
thundered at the witness: 

“Bepeat to the Court, as nearly as you can recollect, every 
word of the conversation between yourself and Lord March- 
mont.” 

“ Waal,” began the captain imperturbably, “ez near ez I 
recolleck, Lord Marchmont says — ‘ Ken I hev a word with you 
in your cabin, Captain Skinner ? ’ An’ I sez, ‘ Bime-by, my 
lord.’ An’ when I had a moment’s leisure, I says, * I ’m at 
your service, my lord,’ an’ he says, ‘ Thank you, Cap’n.’ An’ 
when we come into my cabin, I says, ‘ Be seated, my lord,’ an’ 
he says, ‘ Thank you, Cap’n.’ ” 

By this time there was a general titter all over the house, 
including the jurors. Even the judge on his bench was strug- 
gling to repress a smile and Mr. Hamilton was beaming. Only 
the prosecuting attorney was not smiling — he was furiously 
angry. 

“ Confine yourself to a repetition only of the important parts 
of your conversation with Lord Marchmont,” he ordered. 

“Yaas, sir; ef I ken jedge what wuz important and what 
wa’ n’t,” drawled the captain. 

“ Go on, sir,” thundered the attorney. “ Did Lord March- 
mont have any instructions to give you, or any message or 
information concerning his son ? ” 

“ Yaas, sir.” 

“ What was it?” 

“ ’T was private, sir.” 

“ Your Honor,” the attorney, exasperated beyond the limit of 
patience, appealed to the judge, “will the Court order this 
witness to tell what he knows ? ” 

“ The witness will give the prosecuting attorney freely all 
the information in his possession or be committed for contempt 


244 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


of court/’ said His Honor sternly, but the twinkle not quite 
all out of his eye. 

“ Very well, yer Honor,” said the captain quietly, and for 
the first time looking troubled. “ I will answer them questions 
to the best of my ability ef the lawyer will ask ’em so ’s I can 
be sure of what he wants to know.” 

“ You say Lord Marchmont made you a communication con- 
cerning his son, of a private nature. Will you give the Court 
the substance of that communication in as nearly the exact 
words of his lordship as you can recollect ? ” said the attorney, 
taking up his examination once more. 

“His lordship said,” began the captain with an air of de- 
termination, and then stopped. 

“ Yes ? ” said the attorney encouragingly. 

“His lordship said,” he began again desperately, “he calke- 
lated it was best for his son to spend a couple o’ years in 
America.” 

“ Did his lordship give his reasons ? ” 

“ I think he said ’t was on account of a little affair Sir 
Li’nel hed been engaged in,” reluctantly, and greatly embar- 
rassed. 

“ Do you mean a duel ? ” 

“ He did not tell me what kind o’ affair.” 

“ Had you any reason to believe it was a disgraceful affair of 
any kind ? ” 

“ I hed no means o’ knowin’ anythin’ about it.” 

“ Except what his lordship said ? ” 

“ Except what his lordship said.” 

“ Can you give me Lord Marchmont’s exact words ? ” 

Here the good captain hesitated again, and at last he 
spoke with difficulty, each word apparently costing him great 
pain : 

“ As near as I can recolleck, these was his words — c My son 
hes become involved in an affair which has given great consarn 
to his friends. It is our hope that residin’ abroad for a year 
or two will cure him and be a benefit to him in every way.’ ” 

The prosecuting attorney glanced triumphantly at the jury, 


ME. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGEES 


245 


every man of whom assumed an air of preternatural wisdom. 
Then he went on with his examination: 

“ Was there anything further of importance in your inter- 
view with Lord Marchmont ? ” 

“ Nothin’ of importance.” 

“ There was something, however ? ” 

“ Yaas, sir, a little somethin’.” 

“ What was it?” 

“ He give me two letters for his son.” 

“ From himself ? ” 

“ One wuz from himself.” 

“ Do you know from whom the other letter was ? ” 

“ No, sir ” 

“ Did you deliver these letters immediately ? ” 

“ No, sir ” 

“ When did you deliver them ? ” 

“ After we left Lee Havver.” 

“ Why did you wait so long ? ” 

“ Those wuz my instructions.” 

“Did the letters seem to produce any effect on the young 
man ? ” 

“ I thought they did, sir.” 

“What effect?” 

“They seemed to make him seasick; he kep’ his cabin for 
several days.” 

A peal of laughter greeted this last reply, quickly quieted 
by the officer. I felt myself turn scarlet, but under cover of 
the slight confusion, Mr. Hamilton turned to me and spoke 
quickly : 

“ Is there anything in this * affair,’ Sir Lionel ? ” 

“There was something, but it is all' over,” I answered, turn- 
ing a deeper red under his keen eyes. 

“ Was it a love affair ? ” 

“ I thought so at the time. I know now it could not be 
called by so dignified a name.” 

“Are you willing that I should so explain it to the Court?” 
“Not unless it is absolutely necessary, sir.” 


246 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ It was your father’s reason for sending you abroad ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. That and to keep me out of the army for a year 
or two longer.’’ 

The questions and answers had been hurried, for the pros- 
ecuting attorney was just finishing with his witness. I had 
not heard his last question, but I caught the end of Captain 
Skinner’s reply, which produced another peal of laughter and 
drenched me with another wave of scarlet. 

“ I wa’ n’t sure but he was lovesick,” drawled the captain. 

“ Gentlemen of the J ury,” said the attorney, “ you have 
heard the testimony of this honest sea captain, proving beyond 
a doubt that the prisoner was sent abroad either because he had 
already committed a crime or had acquired vicious habits which 
his father hoped to reform.” 

And then, turning blandly to Mr. Hamilton : 

“Does my learned opponent desire to examine the witness 
further?” 

Mr. Hamilton was on his feet in a moment. 

“ I would not like to risk spoiling the good impression your 
witness’s testimony has produced for my client; I will waive 
my privilege, Mr. Attorney. Only, permit me to thank Cap- 
tain Skinner for his valuable evidence in behalf of a young 
man sent away from home because he was too young, or so his 
father thought, to enter the army on the eve of war. No 
doubt, as Captain Skinner intimates, he may have left a sweet- 
heart behind him, as what young man of his age and attractions 
would not ? And, no doubt, that would be sufficient to account 
for any idiosyncrasies of manner on his outward voyage.” He 
bowed with consummate grace to the captain, the jury and the 
Court and sat down. 

Now I had been terribly irritated with my friend, Captain 
Skinner, all the way through his testimony, thinking that he 
was muddling my affairs incredibly and no doubt doing me 
great damage. I still think he would have done me much 
hurt in the eyes of the jury but for the clever way in which 
Mr. Hamilton turned his evidence to our account. I could 
see the jury look first puzzled, and then take on an air of self- 


ME. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGEES 247 

satisfaction, as if they too had been clever enough to discover 
that the evidence intended to injure my case had helped it. 

There were one or two unimportant witnesses called next; 
one, a young man who had been present at the first dinner at. 
the Grange and heard Mr. La Force state his reasons for ask- 
ing me to take charge of the office in his absence — that I might 
render in this way, the service to Mr. Livingston that I ex- 
pressed myself as greatly desirous of rendering him, without 
any peril to myself ; the other, a young man who had heard me 
ask Mr. La Force how the office was doing, at my second din- 
ner at the Grange, and heard him reply that some peculiar 
complications had arisen within the last few days which he 
hoped to untangle soon. I recall the names of neither of these 
young men — they had made no impression upon me at the 
two dinners — but I remember that the second one said that 
he had particularly noted the nervousness of my manner, as 
of one conscious of guilt, when Mr. La Force made this state- 
ment! I believe the young fellow was quite sincere in his 
testimony; that his memory was colored by a reflected light 
from his present belief in my guilt; which is natural enough, 
I suppose. 

And then Mr. La Force was called. 

His pallid face and black-rimmed eyes had always given me 
more or less of a creepy sensation; now I could with difficulty 
repress a shudder as I glanced at him, for the pallor of his 
face had increased to ghastliness, and dark circles around his 
eyes gave him an uncanny air that appalled me. I thought 
he must look to everyone as he looked to me, and that his very 
appearance would carry weight with the jury against His testi- 
mony. But I could not see that it did. Indeed, I must con- 
fess the villain — for so I now regarded him — carried a 
smooth tongue. He told a straightforward story so simply and 
glibly, that I could perceive it had a most convincing effect 
upon the jury. I think I should have been convinced myself, 
had I been one of the jurors. The prosecuting attorney was not 
questioning him; he had asked him to tell the Court all that 
he knew about this affair, and I could see that with every word 


248 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


Mr. La Force uttered, the attorney's glances, directed to the 
jury, were growing more and more triumphant. 

“ I met Sir Lionel at a dinner at Mr. Hamilton's," said 
Mr. La Force, after he had been duly sworn and the attorney 
had given him free rein. “ I was greatly attracted to him, 
and when I heard him, with the generous ardor that seemed 
natural to him, insist upon being allowed to aid in nursing 
Mr. Livingston, I wanted to dissuade him — as General Hamil- 
ton and Senator Morris were endeavoring to do — from ex- 
posing himself to such peril. Then it occurred to me that if 
I could convince him that he would be rendering Mayor Liv- 
ingston as great a service by sitting for two days in his office, 
I would at least be postponing his peril until he had time to 
recover from the effects of his sea-voyage, and be in a better 
condition to withstand the assaults of fever. It was imperative 
that I should leave the city for two days, but I had other 
friends whom I could trust implicitly who would gladly have 
served me, and still more gladly have served Mayor Livingston. 

“But I believed I could trust Sir Lionel. His face and his 
manner are such as to win confidence from a stranger, and 
I foolishly thought his rank was sufficient guaranty of his 
integrity. He consented, after some persuasion, and when he 
came to the office I showed him, among other things, the money 
vaults, and gave him the keys in case there should be any un- 
foreseen necessity for paying out money — possibly an order 
from Mayor Livingston. I am bound to say the prisoner made 
some slight demur at having the secrets of the money vaults 
disclosed to him, saying he was quite sure there could be no 
need of money in two days. At the time I liked his demurral 
as another evidence of his trustworthiness; it has seemed to 
me since rather as a token of duplicity. I gave him, also, an 
exact list of the amount of money in the vaults, in gold, silver 
and notes, which, even had I doubted his honesty, I would 
have regarded as a sufficient check on him. 

“ After my return to the office I had no occasion, for a day 
or two, to go to the money vaults. They seemed undisturbed, 
and for some days, perhaps a week or more, such money as I 


ME. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGEES 


249 


needed was taken from the top layers, and I did not suspect 
anything wrong. It must have been fully two weeks after my 
return that I discovered that it was only the two upper layers 
that were intact. All below was mere waste paper, old books, 
and ledgers, neatly covered, as was each layer of money, by a 
sheet of brown paper. 

“ I was utterly horrified and, for a while, dazed. I did not, 
at first, think of Sir Lionel as the possible culprit. I could 
think of no one who could have accomplished the crime but 
our janitor, Pompey, formerly one of Mayor Livingston’s slaves, 
only lately set free, and devoted to the mayor, body and soul. 
He had always shown himself honest as the day and faithful 
in all his duties. I hated to suspect him, but I could think 
of no one else who could have the same opportunities. 

“ On the very day that I made the discovery of the theft I 
noticed a piece of gold in Pompey’s possession. It was very 
remarkable for Pompey to be possessing gold. I had never 
known him to have much but coppers before, and I asked him 
how he came to have a five dollar gold piece. ‘ Marse Li’nel gabe 
it to me, sir/ was his reply, and for the first time a suspicion 
of Sir Lionel flashed into my mind. I asked Pompey to let 
me look at the piece of gold, and, sure enough, it bore the 
mark that I had myself placed on every gold piece as I de- 
posited it in the drawer. After that, I could hardly help 
believing Sir Lionel guilty, yet I was very unwilling to do so. 

“ Then, day by day, little items of information came to me, 
each one strengthening my conviction of his guilt. I learned 
that Sir Lionel had been sent away from home by his father 
because of some scrape he had been in at home. I learned 
that he was much addicted to cards and betting; that, though 
his allowance was liberal, it was his habit to be always, or 
often at least, hard up; that finally he had made a very heavy 
bet with one of the young gentlemen who go to Cockloft Hall 
on the very night before taking possession of the mayor’s office, 
and had lost. When I summed up all these items as to the 
character and habits of Sir Lionel, I could arrive at but on6 
conclusion. 


250 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


“ Yet when I had arrived at that conclusion I was still be- 
wildered as to what steps I ought to take. Mayor Livingston, 
although on the high road to recovery, was still too ill to come 
to the office. I did not believe I ought to run the risk of 
throwing him into a possibly fatal relapse, by conveying to him 
the startling intelligence of the robbery. Still less did I be- 
lieve that I ought to inform anyone else until I could inform 
Mayor Livingston. Whoever should prove to be the guilty one, 
the disgrace and the burden of restitution must fall on him. 
And I was the more willing to wait until the mayor should 
be able to come to the office and learn there the dreadful tidings, 
because the man I suspected was himself ill of the fever, at 
death’s door, report said. There was no chance of his escape. 

“ Mr. Livingston was as unwilling as I had been to think Sir 
Lionel guilty, though I believe, when I had set all the facts 
before him, he was convinced, but unwilling to say so. He 
was leaving the very next morning for Clermont and Sir 
Lionel was going with him. He begged me to say nothing 
of my suspicions. He would lay the matter before the proper 
authorities in a letter from Clermont and every assistance 
should be given the authorities in discovering the thief, but he 
himself would make no suggestions as to whom it might be 
and he begged me not to do so. 

“ Mayor Livingston was completely crushed by the tidings, 
as was natural, for it meant not only disgrace, but also financial 
ruin. ‘ Every shilling of the amount taken shall be returned 
to the city if it takes every shilling I possess/ he said grimly, 
and I was so deeply touched at his utterance and the manner 
of it that I determined, from that moment, that I would bring 
the criminal to justice and make him restore his booty, whether 
Mayor Livingston approved or not. 

“ In the three weeks that the Mayor and Sir Lionel have 
been in Clermont, I have collected much testimony that made 
the matter clear to my mind. A chance remark of Captain 
Skinner’s, when I happened, one night, to be taking dinner 
with him, at the Tontine Coffee House, convinced me that he 
could tell something of importance concerning the reasons for 


ME. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGEES 251 


Sir LionePs voyage to America. Pompey also had an interest- 
ing bit of information to give me, and altogether I decided 
that, for Mayor Livingston's sake, my only right course was, 
when opportunity should offer, to secure Sir LionePs arrest. 
The opportunity came sooner than I expected. When I saw 
Sir Lionel standing on the outskirts of the crowd at the laying 
of the corner-stone, and evidently endeavoring to keep himself 
concealed — as one might do who was conscious of guilt — I left 
the platform where I was sitting, hastened to the Bridewell 
and secured a constable and a warrant for his arrest.” 

“ That is all you have to say ? ” asked the attorney, as Mr. 
La Force had evidently finished his story. 

“ Yes, sir, I believe that is all,” returned Mr. La Force. 

“ Your Honor,” said the attorney, turning to the judge, “ I 
believe no questions of mine could bring out more forcibly the 
truth of this simple story than the straightforward way in 
which Mr. La Force has told it. If it has not carried convic- 
tion to the mind of every juryman hearing it then they are 
not the intelligent body of men I take them to be. I leave 
my witness with confidence in the hands of my honorable op- 
ponent.” 

To my consternation, Mr. Hamilton declined to cross-ex- 
amine, at present, he said, but he begged permission of the 
prosecuting attorney to be allowed to do so after his own wit- 
nesses had been called, and therefore asked that Mr. La Force 
should still be retained in custody. 

"It is an unusual request, but if His Honor allows it, I 
will make no objection,” said the attorney stiffly. 

The judge allowed it, and Mr. La Force was once more re- 
manded to custody, and I thought I discovered a swift flash 
of some emotion, either of fear or resentment, in those black- 
rimmed eyes when Mr. Hamilton's request was preferred. 

I have said that I heard Mr. Hamilton decline to cross- 
examine with consternation. He had heard my version of Mr. 
La Force's story, and it seemed to me there were many points 
where he could have brought out an entirely different impres- 
sion from the one evidently left upon the minds of the jury. 


252 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


Could it be possible Mr. La Force's recital had convinced Mr. 
Hamilton himself? He had sat with downcast eyes and an 
inscrutable countenance through the telling of it except that, 
occasionally, he had flashed a swift, keen glance at Mr. La 
Force, as if he would pierce that white mask and read in the 
speaker's very soul the truth or falsity of his tale. 

I was the more dismayed by the fear that Mr. Hamilton 
himself was beginning to believe in my guilt, because Mr. La 
Force's story had well-nigh convinced me, so cleverly, with 
such an air of conviction, it had been told. Of course it 
was impossible that I could believe in my own guilt, but I 
was well-nigh convinced that Mr. La Force believed in it. 
Heretofore I had thought him animated by malignity toward 
me — possibly on Miss Desloge's account — I had even, at in- 
tervals, wondered if he himself could be the criminal, though 
I never allowed myself to dwell on that — but now I began 
to believe, with Mr. Burr and Mr. Livingston, that Mr. La 
Force was honest and actuated entirely by zeal for and sym- 
pathy with his employer. 

The next witness called was the black janitor, Pompey. 
Now Pompey had been most attentive to me in my two days' 
incarceration in the Mayor's office. I had liked his honest, 
grinning black face well, and I had thought he liked me. I was 
sorry to see that he, too, believed in my guilt and was to testify 
against me. 

“ Look at the prisoner. Have you ever seen him ? " was the 
attorney's first question to Pompey. 

“Yaas, Marsah," replied Pompey, with one scared glance at 
me, the whites of his eyes rolling wildly. 

“ Where?" 

“ In Marse Livingston's offus." 

“ How many times did you see him there ? " 

“ Mebbe twenty, mebbe ten ; I dunno fo' shoah, Marsah." 

“ What were the occasions of your seeing him ? " 

“ Sah ? " queried the bewildered and alarmed Pompey. 

“ I mean, were you waiting on the prisoner when you saw 
him, and what were you doing ? " 


ME. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGEES 


253 


“ Oh, yaas, sah,” Pompey was relieved. “ Sometimes I done 
tek him water, sometimes I done tek him lemon squash, some- 
times one t’ing, sometimes anudder.” 

“ When you took him these things, what was he doing as a 
rale?” 

“ Mos’ genelly reading sah.” 

“ Always ? ” 

“ ’Ceptin’ onct, I bleeve.” 

“ What was he doing that once ? ” 

“ He was coinin’ out ob de nex’ room.” 

“ What was the next room ? ” 

“ De room whar Marse Livingston keep de money.” 

“How do you know Mayor Livingston keeps the money 
there ? ” 

“ I done seed it, sah.” 

“ Did he ever send you there to get money by yourself ? ” 

“ Fo’ de Lawd, no ! ” exclaimed Pompey, frightened out of 
his manners by the suggestion. 

“How did the prisoner look when you saw him coming out 
of the next room ? ” 

“ He look kind o’ sceered, sah.” 

“ In what way did he look scared ? ” 

“ He all red an’ flustery, sah.” 

“ What did he say to you ? ” 

“ He say, ‘ What yoh doin’ hyar, Pompey ? ’ ” 

“ Did he say anything else ? ” 

“ Yes, sah, he say, ‘ When I need yo’, I ’ll ring for yo\ Yoh 
doan need come in hyar ebery few minutes.’ ” 

“ Did you enter the office after that except when the prisoner 
rang ? ” 

“ No, sah.” 

“ Did he ring often ? ” 

“ No, sah.” 

This was a telling speech of Pompey’s, and I could see its 
effect on the jury. I racked my brains to recall whether I 
had ever said any such thing to him. I thought it possible 
I had, for he rather pestered me with attentions. But as to 


254 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


his seeing me come from the money room, looking “ red and 
flustered/' I believed that to be a pure invention. I could not 
remember going into that “ next room " at all. And then it 
flashed into my mind that here was the thief! As Mr. La 
Force had said, he had plenty of opportunities and he had 
cunningly made up that story about surprising me coming 
from the money room to cover his own tracks. I leaned over 
and whispered to Mr. Hamilton: 

“ There is the thief ! " 

Mr. Hamilton looked at him keenly for a minute and then 
as keenly at me. 

“Hid you never go into that next room? or rather did 
Pompey never meet you coming from it ? " he asked. 

“ I cannot recall ever entering it, except the one time Mr. 
La Force took me there." 

“ Perhaps he is the thief," said Mr. Hamilton quietly, and 
set himself again to listening. 

“Did the prisoner tip you as he was leaving?" the attorney 
was asking as I began to listen once more. 

“Not jes' as he wuz leavin', mebbe 'twuz a couple o' hours 
befoah." 

“ Was Mr. La Force present ? " 

“ No, sah." 

“ How much did he give you ? " 

“ Five dollahs, sah." Pompey's eyes rolled again. It 
seemed to have been an extraordinary amount, yet in England 
I have often given a sovereign to a servant in a house where I 
had been visiting. 

“ What did he say when he gave it to you ? " 

“ He say I bin bery p'lite an' 'tentif, sah, an' he t'ank me. 
He seem like bery nice gen'leman, sah, an' I sorry he 'm in 
trubble," with a roll of his eyes toward me, as if to beg my 
pardon for testifying against me. 

The spectators laughed good-naturedly. Audience and jury 
evidently believed in Pompey, to most of whom he had been 
well known for years. 

“ Your Honor," said the attorney, “ I think I do not need 


ME. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGEES 


255 


to question this witness further. Honesty and truth are writ- 
ten in every line of his shining black countenance, and I think 
the enlightened jury will agree with me that his testimony has 
been most damaging to the prisoner. 

“He has made two incontrovertible points. He surprised 
the prisoner coming from the money room when there was 
evidently no necessity of his going there, and the prisoner was 
red and flustered, and reprimanded him sharply for entering 
the office 6 every few minutes* without being summoned. Of 
course, if he had nefarious designs to accomplish, it was very 
awkward indeed to have the honest darkey entering at any 
inauspicious moment. It would appear that Pompey’s entrance 
at that time probably frustrated his design, but that, since, after- 
wards the witness came only when summoned, the prisoner had 
plenty of opportunity to accomplish it later. 

“ His second incontrovertible point was the tip, of such size 
as is never given to a negro in this country, but bestowed, no 
doubt, with the intention of sealing the negro’s lips when ques- 
tions should be asked. Moreover, it was not given on leaving, 
the usual time* for tips, for the very good reason that Mr. La 
Force would then have been present, which would, no doubt, 
have been extremely awkward for the prisoner. No, it was 
given several hours before Mr. La Force had reached the office. 
Fortunately, Mr. La Force discovered that it had been given, 
and still more fortunately, Mr. La Force, with the foresight 
for which he is noted, had marked the gold pieces in the 
drawer. The proof is incontrovertible. Will the honorable 
counsel for the defendant question the witness further ? ” 

Mr. Hamilton was on his feet, with a smiling countenance. 

“ Your Honor, may I inquire of my distinguished opponent 
whether this is his last witness ? ” 

“ It is, sir. I think my case needs no others,” said the 
attorney confidently. 

“ Then, Your Honor,” said Mr. Hamilton, still smiling, “ if 
I may be allowed the same privilege in the case of this witness 
as the former one, I should like to examine him after the 
direct examination of my own witnesses. And as the hour is 


256 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


late, and both my witnesses and myself would be better fitted 
to go through the ordeal after dinner, may I beg the Court to 
grant a recess before beginning on my direct examinations ? ” 

The recess was granted. I believe it was not often that 
anything was denied to Mr. Hamilton’s asking, and I think he 
must have made a very hurried dinner, indeed, for part of 
that recess of an hour, I heard afterward, he spent with his 
witnesses, and a good quarter of it, I am sure, he spent with 
me. He came in, his face beaming, and a sandwich in his 
hand, at which he nibbled occasionally as he talked. The sand- 
wich, with, perhaps, a glass of wine, was his only dinner, I 
fancy. 

“ Well, Sir Lionel, we have them, I believe,’*’ he exclaimed 
as he entered, in a tone whose cheeriness inspired confidence 
at once. I had been feeling very blue, and part of my blue- 
ness had been that I was losing confidence, a little, in my 
counsel’s ability. Either he was not so great a lawyer as I had 
heard, or he had not the conviction of my innocence necessary 
to success. So far, he had not made a single cross-examination 
and I had supposed that was where his power lay. 

“ Have them ! ” I exclaimed in return. “ I was beginning 
to feel they had us. In fact, unless you can prove Pompey 
is the thief, I do not see but I am bound to be convicted. Mr. 
La Force and Pompey between them have nearly convinced me 
of my own guilt.” 

Mr. Hamilton laughed. 

“ They were pretty strong witnesses, were n’t they ? ” he asked 
gleefully. “But we have two who will make their evidence 
look as weak as water. The second has but just arrived with 
the messenger I sent after him, and I have been on pins and 
needles for fear he would not come in time. I would not have 
the case postponed because I did not want to keep you in the 
Bridewell any longer, but if he had not arrived when he did, 
I should have had to resort to some means to drag it out until 
he did come. That is one reason I asked for the recess and 
deferred my cross-examinations. He has just reported to me 
and everything is all right.” 


ME. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGEES 


257 


<c Have you only two witnesses ? ” I asked. 

“ Only two, but each one is an army ; they are all I need.” 

“ Would you mind telling me who they are? ” 

“ I would rather not, Sir Lionel,” he returned quite gravely. 
“ I believe it is better that you should not know. Only trust 
me — I promise you you shall be a free man before bed-time 
to-night.” 

His voice had so kind and true a ring, I could not but trust 
him, and something in its gentle, friendly tones, and the kindly 
glance of his eye brought my father so vividly before me that 
I felt the quick tears springing. Surely it was wonderful that 
I should have found such a friend in a strange land. I think 
Mr. Hamilton saw that I was touched, and he spoke briskly, 
with an entire change of manner. 

“ And now, how about Pompey ? So you think he ’s the 
thief?” 

“ Do not you, sir ? ” 

“ Well, I ’m not sure, of course, but I don’t like to think so. 
I ’ve known Pompey for thirty years and never known him 
dishonest. But there’s one thing I want to ask you. Can’t 
you possibly remember going, just once, into that room where 
the money was kept, and meeting Pompey as you came out ? ” 

Again I racked my memory for a minute, and then it flashed 
upon me. 

“ I do, sir, I do ! ” I cried excitedly. 

Mr. Hamilton smiled quietly. 

“ Well, tell me about it.” 

“It was the first day, sir, in the afternoon. It was very 
hot and I was tired of reading. Mr. La Force had shown me 
a drawer where I could find stationery, if I should feel like 
beguiling the time with writing letters, and I decided that I 
would write home and stop at the post office on my way to my 
hotel and mail the letter. I opened the drawer and there, on 
top of the writing materials, lay a bunch of keys that I recog- 
nized as the keys to the money vaults Mr. La Porce had shown 
me. He had also pointed out the place they were kept, which 
was in a drawer in the next room. I took up the keys imme- 
1 7 


258 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


diately and carried them into the other room and deposited 
them in their proper place, and I was quite indignant with 
Mr. La Force for having been so careless, for, if I had not 
happened to discover them, some thief might easily have found 
them and I would have been held responsible.” 

“ Do you remember meeting Pompey as you came back ? ” 
Mr. Hamilton asked, smiling his satisfaction that I had recalled 
the incident. 

“ Yes., I believe I do. Very likely I did look ‘ red and 
flustered.’ I was hot enough to look red — we never have such 
heat in England — and I was still fuming at Mr. La Force 
and no doubt spoke sharply to Pompey.” 

Mr. Hamilton rubbed his hands gleefully together — it was 
a characteristic action with him when he was pleased. 

“ Everything fits in exactly. Every word you utter is a link 
in the chain that I believe now to be complete. Sir Lionel, I 
would like to wager you that the jury will not be out ten 
minutes until they come back with a verdict of * Not Guilty.’ ” 

“ I ’d like to take you up,” I answered ; “ I would be willing 
to lose a tidy sum on that. But I suppose, if the prosecuting 
attorney should hear that I was betting on my own conviction, 
he would consider me an abandoned character, indeed, and hold 
me up for the reprobation of the Court and a warning to all 
youthful Americans.” 

“ No doubt of it, sir, no doubt of it!” exclaimed Hamilton 
chuckling, “ and your counsel would be sent to limbo with you, 
where he has often been sent before. By the way, Sir Lionel, 
how do you explain that marked piece of money you gave to 
Pompey? You are an extravagant rascal, sir, to be giving gold 
to darkies — a shilling satisfies them as well.” 

I blushed at his charge of extravagance. 

“ I did not know, sir,” I said meekly. “ As to the marked 
piece, that is another of those strange freaks of circumstantial 
evidence. Mr. La Force changed some English money for me 
only the day before. It slipped his memory, I suppose, when he 
discovered I had given a marked piece to Pompey.” 

“ ‘ Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad,’ ” 


ME. HAMILTON MAKES TWO WAGEES 


259 


murmured Mr. Hamilton. I did not see the application and 
he seemed so lost in thought, I did not ask him for it. In a 
moment he looked up again brightly. 

“ By the way, did you notice the mark on the piece ? ” 

“ No, sir, I did not know it was marked.” 

“ Have you any more of those pieces ? ” 

“Yes, sir, several, I think, though I have spent the most of 
them. I am afraid I am the spendthrift the attorney painted 
me, though I do not remember being so constantly ‘hard up/ 
as he said — my father is very liberal with me.” 

“ Yes, I hn afraid you are a sad spendthrift,” said Mr. 
Hamilton genially. “ But let me see some of those gold pieces, 
if you have any about you.” 

I fished in my pockets and found three, two tens and a five. 
I handed them over to Mr. Hamilton, and he looked all three 
over carefully; then handed them to me to hunt for the mark; 
but neither of us could discover anything. 

“Let me take these three pieces until after the trial,” said 
Mr. Hamilton ; “ you are sure you have no more of them ? ” 

I went through my pockets again, but found no more. 

“ Well, these are enough,” he said gleefully, depositing them 
in a side pocket from which he carefully removed every other 
coin. “The last link is forged, the chain of evidence is com- 
plete. I must be going — it is almost time for court to reopen. 
Keep a light heart, Sir Lionel, for we are hound to win ” 

As he was going out, he put his head back in the door and 
said, in a mock, sepulchral whisper: 

“ I ’d like to make you another wager, Sir Lionel, that we 
will have the real criminal in the Bridewell before night ” 


XXII 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 

T HERE was no resisting Mr. Hamilton’s happy hopeful- 
ness; I could not be despondent after he left me, though 
I could not feel quite so sure as he that I would be out of the 
Bridewell before night. 

One other call I had during the recess — a very brief one. 
It was from Mayor Livingston. He came in hurriedly and, 
almost shamefacedly, he took my hand and wrung it. 

“ I cannot but feel. Sir Lionel, that I have brought you into 
all this trouble, and I have come to ask you to forgive me and 
to tell you that I am as sure of your innocence as of my own. 
Your case seemed to go badly this morning — you are en- 
tangled in a most unfortunate web of circumstances — but I 
have great faith in Hamilton’s ability to unravel the knot. 
He is a great man and a great lawyer. But I want you to 
know that, whatever the verdict, I believe in you, and if it 
should go against you I will move heaven and earth for a 
pardon. Governor Clinton is a life-long friend and he shall 
grant it. Can you forgive me?” 

His voice broke on the last words and I was so moved at the 
sight of his distress that I could only wring his hand, for a 
moment, silently. Then I recovered my self-control and as- 
sured him I held him in no jot or tittle responsible. Moreover, 
I assured him I expected an acquittal confidently, and that I 
did not feel that I was the one who needed sympathy, but he, 
who, however the verdict went, was bound to lose place, position 
md fortune. 

“But neither honor nor friends, sir,” I added. “This city 
will always honor your name as one of its greatest, best, and 
most dearly loved — and your friends are legion.” 

260 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


261 


My little speech seemed to move him still more deeply. He 
crushed my hand in response and went out silently, and I felt, 
at that moment — as Mr. La Force had said he had felt — 
that I would leave no stone unturned to discover the true crim- 
inal and compel him to confession and restitution. 

The court-room was, if possible, more crowded in the after- 
noon, and there was an eager air of expectancy among the spec- 
tators, since everyone knew that Mr. Hamilton was to be de- 
pended on for a brilliant coup of one kind or another, and that 
he was now to take charge of the trial. I glanced quickly 
toward that part of the room where my friends had been seated 
in the morning. Yes, they were all there, but again I looked 
in vain for Mademoiselle. This time I experienced a keen pang 
of disappointment. Mr. Hamilton had so thoroughly imbued 
me with his confidence in my acquittal that I wanted her to 
be present. Was she indifferent? Could she be ill? 

My questions were answered before I had hardly finished 
asking them. Mr. Hamilton was on his feet making his brief 
opening speech. 

“ I have subpoenaed but two witnesses,” he said, “ and as 
it is an almost impossible feat in law to prove a man innocent, 
I have confined my efforts to a rebuttal of the evidence that 
attempted to prove my client guilty. And after the examina- 
tion of my two witnesses — and cross-examination if my honor- 
able friend so desires,” with a courtly bow to the prosecuting 
attorney, “ I hold to the privilege you have granted me of cross- 
examining the witnesses for the State.” 

He turned to the sheriff and the name that was called struck 
consternation to my heart. Almost I refused to believe my 
senses, as I heard it, and as I saw a graceful figure, closely 
veiled in gray, slowly mount to the witness box. My heart 
pounded so furiously and the blood rushed so madly to my 
brain and back again, turning me deaf and blind for the mo- 
ment, that I lost some of the preliminaries. When I was able 
to look and listen the witness had been duly sworn and the 
gray veil was lifted. Mr. Hamilton was asking questions in 
a fashion so courteous and gentle that the witness was evidently 


262 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


rapidly regaining her composure. Her answers, which at first 
were scarcely audible, now came in a voice, still low-pitched, 
but perfectly clear and calm. 

Mr. Hamilton's first questions had been as to her name, 
nationality and residence. I had not been able to hear the 
answers to these, but presently I heard a question to which I 
listened intently. 

“ How long have you known Sir Lionel ? " was Mr. Hamil- 
ton's question. 

I wondered that she hesitated in her answer, but presently 
it came, low and clear : 

“I met him on board the Sea Gull, nearly three months 
ago.” 

“ Did you observe anything in his manner which would have 
led you to believe him a fugitive • from justice or a hardened 
reprobate sent from home to reform ? " 

“ Nothing, sir." 

“ What was his ordinary manner ? " 

“I thought him, at first, a little sad, but that I supposed 
was natural on leaving home and friends. Later he seemed 
to recover his cheerfulness." 

“ Have you seen much of him since your arrival in America ? " 

a Yes, sir." 

“ Where?" 

a I saw him first at the Grange, then at Liberty Hall, and 
later, I have been spending two or three weeks at Clermont, 
Miss Livingston's country-seat, where Sir Lionel also was 
staying." 

“ At any time have you observed anything in his manner 
that would indicate he was suffering from remorse, or pricks 
of conscience ? " 

“ No, sir." 

“I understand that during his illness you assisted in the 
care of him — is that true ? " 

“ Yes, sir," barely articulated. 

I was indignant. Why was it necessary to subject Made- 
moiselle Desloge to questions that could not but be most trying. 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


263 


But Mr. Hamilton went on calmly, without appearing to notice 
her embarrassment. 

“ Was he, during his illness, in delirium ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, much of the time.” 

“ In his delirium did he rave much, or talk frequently ? ” 

“ Very frequently.” 

“ Of what did he talk ? ” 

I felt the blood rush to my face. It had not occurred to 
me before that I had talked in my delirium, and I wondered 
what Mademoiselle had heard me say. Had I talked of Peggy ? 
Still worse, had I talked of her? But Mademoiselle was an- 
swering quite calmly : 

“ He talked of his father and an Aunt Pamela, of Oxford, 
and a little of his experiences on ship-board. Also, at times, 
he talked of ‘ the Lads of Kilkenny/ ” 

“He never referred to any events that may have occurred in 
the mayor’s office ? ” 

“ Not a word, sir.” 

“ Did he ever mention money in his ravings ? ” 

“ I never heard him.” 

“ Did he ever use any words or expressions not fit for a lady’s 
ears ? ” 

“ Not one, sir ! ” indignantly. 

“ Do you know Mr. La Force, Mr. Livingston’s private secre- 
tary ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

And now I thought the witness began to falter a little. I 
was watching her keenly — though she never once turned her 
eyes my way — and I saw her color begin to come and go. It 
pained me to see it, for I thought it sure evidence that she 
cared for La Force. She could talk calmly enough of me. 

“ How long have you known him ? ” 

Here she hesitated again, and when her answer came, it 
astounded me: 

“ I met him first about three years ago.” 

I had supposed that Miss Desloge had met him for the first 
time at the dinner at the Grange, where I had first met him. 


264 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


Could it be possible he was an old friend, perhaps — an old 
lover? Could it even be possible that Mademoiselle had taken 
a position in America for his sake? It was all painfully be- 
wildering to me, but I listened the more keenly for the next 
question and answer. 

“ Did the acquaintance amount to — friendship ? ” 

“ I think it might have been so called, at first.” 

“Was this — friendship — broken off before he came to 
America ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Has Mr. La Force tried to renew it since your arrival 
here?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Has he been at all confidential with you, since you have 
met him again ? ” 

“ Somewhat so, sir.” 

Every answer evidently cost her a tremendous effort. At 
times, she turned so pale I thought she would faint; at others, 
her cheeks were deep-dyed with the hue of shame. My heart 
ached for her. I longed to put a stop to this torture to which 
Mr. Hamilton was subjecting her, and for what purpose I 
could not see. Yet I could see he was endeavoring to fashion 
his questions so as to give her as little embarrassment as pos- 
sible. But, carefully as he fashioned them, it was perfectly 
evident to me, and I supposed to the jury, that Mr. La 
Force had been at one time, in France, in love with Made- 
moiselle Desloge, if not betrothed to her; that something had 
occurred to break off the affair; that he had renewed his suit 
in America — how distasteful it must be to Mademoiselle to 
be obliged to reveal all this! I was ready for her sake to rise 
up in my prisoner’s box and beg Mr. Hamilton to let me go 
back to the Bridewell, rather than so put her to shame before 
this crowded house. And how had Mr. Hamilton got hold of 
these facts? What a mean, spying, tyrannical thing the law 
was! First it ferrets out all the innermost secrets of one’s 
private life and then compels the poor victim to confess to 
them before a curious, scandal-scenting vampire of a public. 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


265 


I knew there was no escape from a subpoena — poor Made- 
moiselle ! How did she get into the toils of this ill-fated case ! 

Mr. Hamilton was going on relentlessly: 

“Did he ever say to you that he had lately come into posses- 
sion of a large sum of money ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Did he say by what means ? ” 

“ He gave me to understand that it was an inheritance from 
an uncle in France.” 

“ Did he give you his uncle’s name ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Were you acquainted with the uncle in France?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Had you seen him within a short time of your leaving 
France ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, within a week.” 

“ Was he in health at that time?” 

“ He seemed to be in perfect health.” 

“Had other ships arrived in New York since you landed, 
by which Mr. La Force could have received the tidings of his 
uncle’s death and his inheritance, before he informed you of 
it?” 

“ I think two had arrived.” 

“ Had this uncle any children ? ” 

“No, sir.” 

“When did Mr. La Force inform you of the death of his 
uncle and his inheritance ? ” 

“ About five weeks ago.” 

“Was that during Sir Lionel’s illness?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Did you believe him when he told you of it ? ” 

“I did, at first.” 

“ Did you come to have any doubts of it later ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Why?” 

“I first began to doubt, because it seemed strange to me 
that his uncle should have left him so large an amount, since 


266 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


he had another favorite nephew who was always regarded as 
his heir. Later I received a letter from a friend in Paris, who 
would have been almost certain to have spoken of the death, 
and there was no mention of it." 

“ You say ‘ so large an amount.' Did Mr. La Force ever tell 
you the amount of this inheritance ? " 

“Not exactly, but he spoke of it as many thousands of 
pounds. He said he was now a rich man." 

“ Did he say what he intended to do with it ? " 

“ He intended to buy a large estate in the interior — near 
Otsego Lake, I think he said." 

“ He intended to leave New York City, then? " 

“ Yes, sir." 

“ How soon did he expect to leave ? " 

“ He was anxious to leave immediately." 

“You are sure of that?" 

“ Very sure ! " emphatically. 

Mr. Hamilton glanced pleasantly at the jury, as much as to 
say — Take note of that, Gentlemen ! — and then went on. 

“ Have you seen Mr. La Force since coming to New York 
for the laying of the corner-stone of City Hall ? " 

“ Yes, twice." 

“ I understood you to say that five weeks ago, when he first 
spoke to you of this inheritance, he was then expecting to 
leave the city immediately. Is that so ? " 

“ Yes, sir." 

“ Do you know why he did not leave immediately ? " 

“I think I do, sir." She colored painfully and could not 
lift her eyes. I looked away, for I could not bear to see her 
suffering, and my glance fell on the hushed throng, every mem- 
ber of it breathless and every eye fixed on the witness. No, 
not all! Miss Livingston's eyes were down and her face was 
almost as scarlet as Mademoiselle's own and so was Mrs. Mont- 
gomery's and Mrs. Hamilton's. Not- far from them sat Mayor 
Livingston, his head bowed, one hand shading his eyes, the 
picture of distress. I knew it had come to him, as it must 
have come to everyone in that audience, that Mr. Hamilton 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


267 


was slowly proving, not my innocence but Mr. La Force’s guilt. 
He had been a trusted and confidential servant and Mr. Liv- 
ingston could not but suffer in the revelation. 

Mr. Hamilton seemed to know that he was treading on deli- 
cate ground, and forbore to press further the question of La 
Force’s not leaving the city when he first intended. 

“ Has he spoken to you of his immediate departure since 
your return to New York? ” was his next question. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Do you know when he intends to leave ? ” 

“ As soon as this trial is over.” 

“ Has he ever spoken to you of Sir Lionel ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Did he seem friendly or otherwise ? ” 

“ He seemed to me, covertly, an enemy.” 

“ Did he tell you of his suspicions concerning Sir Lionel 
before you left New York for Clermont?” 

“He told me that there was serious trouble at the office 
and that he feared it was the result of Sir Lionel’s two days’ 
stay there.” 

“ Did he not tell you anything more definite ? ” 

“ I asked him the nature of the trouble and he said it would 
all be out soon and I would know about it.” 

“Was this before he had told Mayor Livingston of the rob- 
bery ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Did he say anything else to prejudice you against Sir 
Lionel?” 

“ He insinuated many things : that he was hearing constant 
reports of his profligacy both at home and since his arrival in 
America.” 

“Did his insinuations and suspicions affect your opinion of 
Sir Lionel ? ” 

“ No, sir ! ” My heart gave a leap, for there was a ring of 
pride in her voice that I had not heard before. 

“ Did you understand the purpose of his insinuations ? ” 

“ I thought I did,” very faintly. 


268 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


“ Did you hear of this robbery from any other source before 
coming back to New York?" 

“ Yes, sir, Mayor Livingston told me of it." 

“Did he tell anyone else? " 

“I don't know. I think not* sir." Again a heightened 
color and again my heart throbbed painfully. It was true, 
then, that the mayor was infatuated with Mademoiselle; and 
it seemed to me that here was a man, whose attractions it 
would be hard for any woman to resist. 

“Did Mayor Livingston have any purpose in telling you of 
the robbery ? " 

“ He wished me to assist him in persuading Sir Lionel not 
to come to New York with us to the laying of the corner-stone," 
she answered, and my spirits rose at once. 

“ Why did he not wish Sir Lionel to come ? " 

“He believed that he was innocent of this crime, but from 
what Mr. La Force had told him he feared that he would be 
arrested and have to submit to the indignity of a trial." 

“ Why did he not tell Sir Lionel his reasons for wishing him 
to stay away from New York? " 

“ He was under promise to Mr. La Force to say nothing to 
him about it. Also, I think, though he believed him innocent, 
he was not quite sure of it; and he was not sure but that he 
was the profligate and scapegrace Mr. La Force had told him 
he was." 

“ Then you, also, were under bond to say nothing to Sir 
Lionel of the robbery ? " 

“ Yes, sir." 

The witness was evidently growing very weary. Her pallor 
was steadily increasing. I began to fear she would not hold 
out; and though every word had been intensely interesting — 
thrilling — to me, I began to long for the end. Mr. Hamilton 
evidently noted her weariness, also. 

“ Your Honor," he said, “ I believe this witness has told us 
more than enough to prove the point I wish to make later. 
Unless my distinguished opponent desires to cross-examine, I 
will excuse her." 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


269 


Now I had heard much of the district-attorney’s methods 
in cross-examination — that they were in direct contrast to 
Mr. Hamilton’s. That, in fact, he bullied and terrified the 
witness, and did not hesitate to probe his most secret and inti- 
mate affairs, often when they did not bear, even remotely, on 
the testimony. In a flash I pictured him compelling Miss 
Desloge to reveal all the details of her acquaintance with Mr. 
La Force; perhaps even the details of her acquaintance with 
me. My heart stood still as the district-attorney rose to his feet. 

“Your Honor,” he said slowly — he was evidently bewil- 
dered by this new testimony — “ I pray you to grant me the 
same privilege you have granted my distinguished opponent. 
Perhaps, after I have heard the testimony of his other witnesses 
and his cross-examination of mine, I may then wish to cross- 
examine; for the present I waive my privilege.” 

I breathed freely again. Miss Desloge was leaving the wit- 
ness-box, but just before she dropped the gray veil, her eyes 
met mine, and it seemed to me they said — It was for your 
sake I endured this ordeal. I know not whether my eyes ex- 
pressed the gratitude I felt, or whether she had time to read 
them if they did, for her veil was dropped instantly and she 
moved swiftly from the room, accompanied to the door by Mr. 
Hamilton, and there, apparently, put into the hands of some 
friend whom I could not see. 

Mr. Hamilton’s second witness was a slight young fellow in 
the uniform of a naval cadet. I had never seen him before, 
but I was destined to know him well and experience with him 
some thrilling adventures in the next few weeks, and to hear 
of him often in the future with a feeling of pride, at the men- 
tion of his name, that I had once known so intimately the 
distinguished man of letters. 

He gave his name as Fenimore Cooper, and his residence as 
Cooperstown on Otsego Lake, and stated that he had just re- 
turned from a visit to his home on leave of absence. Then, 
question by question, Mr. Hamilton drew from him that on 
his outward trip, a day’s journey from New York, he fell in 
with a friendly party of Hurons on their way to Otsego Lake, 


270 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


and traveled with them; that, as he was entering their camp, 
he met a white man just leaving it by the road leading to New 
York, by which he himself had come — this impressed him 
as unusual, and he would have stopped to exchange greetings, 
as was the custom with travelers in the wilderness, but the 
man seemed in great haste and galloped swiftly by him, merely 
lifting his hat, as he passed; that the Hurons traveled slowly, 
since they were afoot, but that he remained with them as long 
as they were passing through the Shawangunk Mountains and 
the forests lying between them and the Susquehanna, since 
these districts were still infested by wandering bodies of In- 
dians from unfriendly tribes; that, in the two or three days he 
had remained with them, he had learned that a wagon drawn 
by two strong horses which had aroused his curiosity, since 
Hurons were not likely to own such valuable property, had been 
left by the white man he had met leaving the camp; that the 
wagon seemed to be filled with the light impedimenta of the 
Indians, but that once, in crossing a swollen stream, it tipped 
and its contents were doused in the water; that among the 
contents was a small box or chest which the chief ordered 
the young men to rescue first; that it seemed heavy and he 
went to their assistance and discovered that it was very heavy 
indeed; that one of the braves told him it had been brought 
by the white man in the wagon with instructions to the Hurons 
to take it with them to their camp on Lake Otsego and keep it 
there until he should call for it, which would probably be in 
two or three weeks; and that he had also said the chest con- 
tained valuable papers; that when the witness heard this he 
suggested to the chief that he should open the chest and take 
out the papers and dry them, as, otherwise, they would prob- 
ably mildew and be destroyed; but that the chief refused, say- 
ing his instructions were on no account to open the box; and, 
finally, that he remembered the day of the month very well, as 
it was the day on which his leave began, the evening of the 
25th of August. 

Mr. Cooper went on to say that he had almost forgotten the 
incident until, on his arrival in the city, the day before, he had 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


271 


heard of the robbery and the trial, and that after pondering 
the matter he had sent word to Mr. Hamilton that he thought 
he might have some information that bore on the case; that 
Mr. Hamilton had sent for him during the noon recess, and, 
after hearing his story, had at once subpoenaed him. 

The cross-examination was very brief and every word of it 
told against the cross-examiner’s case. Mr. Hamilton, in the 
direct examination, had asked: 

“ Would you know this white man if you should meet him 
again ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Does the prisoner look like him ? ” 

“ Not at all.” 

It was this point the prosecuting attorney tried to weaken. 

“ If you passed this man at a rapid gallop, how could you 
expect to know him after an interval of six weeks ? ” he asked 
with a sarcastic smile. 

“ Because, sir,” answered Cooper slowly, “ there were two 
striking peculiarities in his appearance. One was that he had 
very unusual eyes, heavily and blackly lashed on the lower rims 
and disclosing a line of white above the black lashes. The 
other was that he did not wear his hair tied, but short and 
curling in his neck after the fashion the French have intro- 
duced to the country. I took him for a Frenchman.” 

Every word of the young fellow’s testimony, given with re- 
markable clearness and alertness, had been listened to breath- 
lessly, but there was a tremendous sensation after his last utter- 
ance. The prosecuting attorney dropped him as if he had been 
a live coal and Mr. Hamilton turned smilingly to the Court. 

“Will Your Honor allow this witness to remain in the 
court-room while I ask for the return of the State’s witnesses ? ” 
asked Mr. Hamilton. 

The request was granted and young Mr. Cooper was given 
a seat where he could see the witness-box distinctly without 
himself being in the direct line of vision of the witness. Mr. 
Hamilton called first for Pompey and his cross-examination 
was very brief. 


272 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ Have you the gold piece with you that Sir Lionel gave you } 
Pompey ? ” he asked pleasantly. 

“ Yes, Marse Hamilton/’ answered Pompey, grinning in re- 
sponse to Mr. Hamilton’s smile. 

“ You don’t mean to say you have n’t spent any of* it for 
lollipops or croquecignolles,” demanded Mr. Hamilton aston- 
ished, or appearing to be. 

“No, sah,” returned Pompey emphatically. “I gwine keep 
dat fibe dollars for lucky-piece. I doan neber spect to git an- 
odder.” 

“ Will you let me look at it, Pompey? ” still with his pleasant 
smile. 

“Yes, sah,” drawing it slowly and reluctantly from the 
depths of his breeches pocket, and handing it to Mr. Hamilton. 

“ Now, will you show me the mark Mr. La Force put on it? ” 

“I neber seed no mark. I done look fer ut, but I cyahnt 
fine ut.” 

“ Will you let me keep this, Pompey, for a while ? ” 

“Yes, sah, I specs I hab to,” said Pompey mournfully. 
“ But you ’ll shore gib ut back to me, Marse Hamilton ? ” 

“ Oh, surely, Pompey, you will have it back and perhaps 
something with it.” 

Pompey brightened at Mr. Hamilton’s promise, and left the 
witness-box, since this was the end of his examination, only 
looking back longingly once at the pocket where he had seen 
his beloved gold piece disappear. 

“Before calling Mr. La Force for his cross-examination, I 
should like to give some instructions to the witness, Mr. Cooper, 
and to the jury,” said Mr. Hamilton, and his tones were greatly 
changed. They were no longer the gentle, winning ones he had 
used to Pompey and the other witnesses; they were alert and 
crisp, as if he were eager for the fray he saw before him. 

“ I will ask Mr. Cooper,” he continued, “ to observe the wit- 
ness closely as he enters, and if he does not recognize him as 
the man he met leaving the camp of the Hurons, to sit per- 
fectly quiet. If he does recognize him, will he nod his head 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


273 


twice, and raise his right hand to the level of his shoulder; no 
higher, please, lest it attract the notice of the witness. I will 
ask the jury to keep their eyes fastened upon Mr. Cooper, as 
Mr. La Force enters, so that they may know whether or not 
Mr. Cooper recognizes him.” 

Not only the eyes of the jury, but of every person in the 
house, not excepting the judge, the prosecuting attorney, and 
the prisoner, were fixed upon Mr. Cooper as Mr. La Force 
entered the room and walked over to the witness-box. I be- 
lieve Mr. Hamilton, alone, kept his eyes on the witness. He 
was sure of the result and he knew Mr. La Force’s glance would 
naturally seek his and he did not want to divert it toward 
Mr. Cooper. Everyone else in the house saw the involuntary 
start young Cooper could not quite control as his eyes fell 
on La Force; saw the emphatic nod, repeated; and the swift 
raising of the right hand to the level of the shoulder. Then 
my own glance traveled quickly from young Cooper to the jury. 
They were smiling and nodding at one another — the test 
seemed to have satisfied them. 

“Mr. La Force,” said Mr. Hamilton pleasantly, “you said, 
in your direct examination, that you were called imperatively 
out of the city for two days, and therefore asked Sir Lionel 
to take your place in the mayor’s office — was that so ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“Will you tell the jury, if you please, the nature of that 
imperative call ? ” 

Mr. La Force hesitated, but only for a moment. 

“ It was the dangerous illness of a very near friend.” 

“You had heard of the illness before you attended the dim 
ner party at the Grange ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Ah, it was not so dear a friend, then, that anxiety on his 
account, or hers, prevented you from engaging in social pleas- 
ures. Will you give the jury the name of your friend?” 

Mr. La Force’s pallid face was taking on a tinge of color. 

“ Mr. Leon Galliard,” he said stiffly. 

18 


274 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


“And his residence, if you please, or the place where you 
visited him, the name of the town or village," Mr. Hamilton 
was still speaking pleasantly. 

“He did not live in a town. He lived in the country," 
answered Mr. La Force glibly. 

“ All, I take it his illness was fatal, since you speak of him 
in the past tense. Am I right ? " 

“ Yes, sir." 

“You did not wear mourning for your friend?" 

“No, sir; he was not a relation." 

“Will you tell the jury in what State he lived since he did 
not live in a village." 

“ On Long Island." 

“ Ah ! " Mr. Hamilton flashed a keen glance at the jury, as 
much as to say — Take note of that ! Mr. La Force saw the 
glance and began to be somewhat discomposed, as the manner 
of his answers betrayed. Mr. Hamilton went on quietly. 

“You were obliged to cross the East Eiver to get to him?" 

“ Yes, sir." 

“ How long did it take you to go to him ? " 

“About a day, sir." 

“ Ah, then you were quite up toward the other end of Long 
Island, for I suppose you were on horseback and rode rapidly." 

“ Yes, sir, quite a long distance up." 

“ And you must have passed through a number of towns and 
villages. Can you give me their names ? " 

“ I am not very good at topography, sir, and the villages 
were not familiar to me. I believe I remember Brooklyn and 
Greenwich and Stamford." 

“ Ah ! How could you know, since your errand was to the 
sick-bed of a friend, that it would take you exactly two days? 
Might not his illness have detained you longer ? " 

“ I knew that I did not dare to take more than two days 
away from the office, since Mr. Livingston was ill, one clerk 
was ill and another away." 

“ But you dared to take those two days ? " 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


275 


“Yes, sir, since I had someone, whom I believed responsible, 
to take my place.” 

“Do you think that the mere desire to see a sick, even, per- 
haps, a dying friend, was sufficient excuse to warrant your leav- 
ing an office, where large amounts of the city’s money were kept, 
in the hands of anyone else, particularly a stranger ? ” Mr. 
Hamilton’s tones were not so pleasant. There was a ring of 
sternness in them. 

“ I think now I was wrong to leave it. I thought then that 
everything was perfectly safe and it was not only my desire to 
see my friend, but I had some imperative business with him 
that must be transacted before his death,” said Mr. La Force, 
sullenly. 

“ Involving money ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ A large amount ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ I have heard that you have recently come into the inherit- 
ance of a large amount of money. Was it from this friend?” 

Mr. La Force’s eyes suddenly widened, so that the white line 
showed all around them. In an instant the startled look passed 
and he flashed a quick, keen glance around the room — I be- 
lieve to be sure Mademoiselle was not present — before he 
answered, “Yes., sir.” 

“Ah, you are to be congratulated. It is not often that a 
friend who is not a relative and for whom one does not wear 
mourning, is so kind. No doubt, then, you will feel like as- 
sisting Mr. Livingston in replacing the city’s money since it is 
somewhat due to your dereliction in duty that it was lost ? ” 

Mr. La Force had turned a dark mahogany under the lash 
of Mr. Hamilton’s tongue; but at his last question, he an- 
swered briskly: 

“ Certainly, sir. I shall be glad to do what I can if the 
thief is not caught, but I believe we have caught him and that 
he should make restitution, sir.” 

I could not help admiring the rogue’s cleverness, and so, I 


276 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


believe, did Mr. Hamilton. But he went on with his cross- 
questioning : 

“ Ah, that reminds me. You said your suspicions were 
aroused by discovering a marked gold piece in Pompey’s pos- 
session, given him by Sir Lionel. Will you describe the mark 
to me ? ” 

At last La Force saw that he was getting into the toils he had 
so clumsily laid for me. He began to grow restive. 

“I can scarcely describe it, sir. It was infinitesimal, a 
mere scratch.” 

“ But you recognized it when you saw it ? ” 

u Certainly, sir.” 

“ And you marked every piece with exactly the same mark 
as you put it in the drawer, you say ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” He spoke grimly, as if under compulsion. 

Mr. Hamilton drew a gold piece from his pocket. 

“ Gentlemen of the jury,” he said. “ I had all the gold 
pieces, of American coinage, removed from the prisoner’s pock- 
ets. This is one of them I hold in my hand, and I will ask 
Mr. La Force to show me the mark on it.” 

He handed the piece to Mr. La Force who, I thought, visibly 
blanched as he took it. He looked at it hard for a moment, 
then pointed out a mark to Mr. Hamilton. 

“ Ah, I see, a slight scratch or abrasion above the peak of the 
A in ‘ America.’ Then the others have the same, I suppose ? ” 

a Yes, sir.” 

He drew the other two gold pieces I had given him from his 
pocket, and scrutinized them carefully. 

“I cannot find the mark on either of these, Mr. La Force,” 
he said, still pleasantly, “ but your eyes are younger than mine, 
perhaps you can discover it,” and he handed the two pieces to 
him. 

Mr. La Force’s face had turned a dark and swarthy hue with 
the blood pumping in great jets from his heart to his temples. 
I, whose station was near his, watching him keenly, could see 
fine beads of perspiration starting out on his forehead. I be- 
lieve he had great difficulty in keeping his hand from trembling 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


277 


as he held it out for the gold pieces, and I do not believe he 
could see them at all for the rush of blood that blinded his 
eyes. But he pretended to look at them for a moment and then 
handed them back to Mr. Hamilton. 

“I suppose I must have neglected to mark an occasional 
piece,” he said coolly. 

“ Ah, but fortunately you marked the one Sir Lionel gave 
to Pompey, with the scratch above the A ? ” 

“ Fortunately, sir,” with a slight sneer. 

“And fortunately," then, I happen to have that very piece 
in my pocket and you can point out the mark to me,” and he 
drew from another pocket Pompey’s beloved coin. 

Mr. La Force started involuntarily — no doubt he had been 
quite sure that Pompey^s gold piece was long since spent — 
and his face was no longer swarthy but ashen as he extended a 
shaking hand for it. He hardly made a pretense of looking at 
it and handed it quickly back. 

“ I can just barely decipher it. I suppose Pompey has worn 
it smooth carrying it in his pocket,” he said with a tremendous 
effort at composure which I could not but admire. 

“Ah, of course! That had not occurred to me,” said Mr. 
Hamilton, blandly, and the jury smiled. 

“ Oh, by the way, Mr. La Force,” he spoke as if he had just 
thought of it, “ I believe I did not ask you whether you could 
recall the day of the month on which you made your visit to your 
friend on Long Island?” 

“ The 25th of August, I believe,” said Mr. La Force, still 
with forced composure. 

“ Ah, thank you. Your memory is excellent,” returned Mr. 
Hamilton suavely, and then turning to the judge he dropped 
his urbanity and was entirely businesslike : 

“Your Honor, I believe I have drawn all out of this witness 
I expected to, but as I may think of something to ask him later, 
I would like to have him retained in the court-room during 
my summing up.” 

For one moment Mr. La Force flashed the glance of a hunted 
beast around the court-room — there were hundreds of eager 


278 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


eyes fastened on him, but in not one pair did he read sympathy 
or help; in every face he read that he was already tried and 
condemned. With a tremendous effort he pulled himself to- 
gether and leading the way, an officer following him, he took 
his stand by an open window overlooking the balcony — there 
was no vacant seat in the room — and the officer took his stand 
beside him. 

During the first part of the speech that followed, he let his 
eyes rove over the court-room with a brazen assumption of in- 
difference, as if he had no interest in what Mr. Hamilton was 
saying, but I think even while his eyes were so carelessly flit- 
ting over the assembly, he was thinking hard and fast. During 
the latter part of Mr. Hamilton’s speech, when there could be 
no doubt in anyone’s mind of what he was coming to, La Force’s 
eyes were on the floor, only occasionally lifted in a quick and 
furtive glance; his hands were tightly clenched; his whole fig- 
ure was tense as if bracing himself to endure, or drawing him- 
self up, like a panther, for a sudden spring. 

“ Gentlemen of the J ury,” began Mr. Hamilton in his most 
winning tones, and they could be very winning indeed, “ it is for 
you to consider some of the facts in this case, as they have ap- 
peared to me from the statements of the witnesses on both sides. 
I have too great confidence in your intellectual ability and your 
sterling integrity to attempt to influence your judgment. I 
purpose simply to review, for the sake of refreshing your memo- 
ries, the story of this case as I have gleaned it. If any point 
I make is wrong, if I seem to be mistaken in any of my state- 
ments, I beg the distinguished counsel on the other side to in- 
terrupt me and set me right. A few of these statements you 
will know were not brought out by the witnesses, but they were 
either told to me by the prisoner or I drew them by inference 
from Mademoiselle Desloge. I could put both of these young 
people on the stand to swear to these statements, but in the case 
of the prisoner it would be an unusual action and hardly seems 
necessary, and in the case of the young lady I have greatly de- 
sired to spare her any further embarrassment and mortifica- 
tion. She came to me and offered herself as a witness simply 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


279 


because she was unwilling to see the innocent suffer — and in 
her own mind she was absolutely convinced of Sir Lionel’s in- 
nocence — but she begged me to spare her as far as possible.” 

Then in clear, brief sentences he told the story of a young 
man in Paris, of dissolute habits, who, meeting at his uncle’s 
house a young girl still at school in a convent, makes violent 
love to her, but secretly. The girl, pleased at first, as any 
maiden would be with her first lover, is at last frightened and 
repelled when the young man tries to persuade her to a secret 
marriage. Insane with jealousy and maddened because the un- 
cle, with whom he lives, refuses to furnish him with all the 
money he demands, he seeks America to retrieve his fortunes 
and forget, if possible, the young girl who has scorned him. In 
America, with much cleverness, he rapidly makes his way into 
favor, and becomes the trusted and confidential secretary of our 
beloved mayor. 

Here, during the mayor’s illness, he is tempted beyond his 
powers of resistance to appropriate to himself the city’s money, 
which is left entirely in his trust. He might have resisted the 
temptation, but one day he meets at dinner the young lady who 
had so inflamed his heart in Paris. At the same dinner he 
meets a gentleman who, with the keenness of jealousy, he 
discovers is also interested in the young lady. He has al- 
ways believed that if he had money his suit would not have 
been so scornfully rejected. In a flash his clever brain sug- 
gests a scheme by which he may become the possessor of 
wealth, win the young lady and at the same time ruin the man 
whom he believes to be his rival. He does not delay a moment 
to put his scheme into execution. The fates are with him. 
The young man is persuaded to lend himself to the plan, be- 
lieving that he is thus rendering a service to Mr. Livingston, 
whose nobility of character has already won his profoundest ad- 
miration. 

When the secretary introduces this young man, the prisoner, 
to the mayor’s office, he contrives a little plan by which he pre- 
tends it may be necessary for the prisoner to visit the money 
vaults in order to pay the claims of two needy old pensioners. 


280 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


This, simply to make more plausible his insistence in showing 
the prisoner the money vaults and the rather intricate means of 
gaining access to them, — which knowledge he intends to use 
against him in the future. The prisoner objects strenuously 
to having anything to do with the money but is silenced by this 
appeal to his charitable instincts. Of course there never were 
any such pensioners, outside of the secretary’s brain. To com- 
plete every small detail by which he may be able to throw sus- 
picion on the prisoner, he first shows him a drawer where sta- 
tionery may be found, and then leaves the keys in the same 
drawer, hoping for the very thing that happened — that when 
the prisoner hastens to return the keys to their proper place 
he may be discovered coming from the money room by Pompey, 
whom he has instructed to enter the office every few moments 
with offers of attentions of some kind, without waiting to be 
summoned by the prisoner. And he has instilled a seed of sus- 
picion in Pompey’s mind by suggesting that thus he can keep 
strict watch on the prisoner. No doubt the prisoner was “ red ” 
— the afternoon was hot — and no doubt he was “flustery” 
for he has himself said that he was indignant with Mr. La 
Force for having been so careless as to leave the keys where, if 
he had not discovered them, any thief might have found them 
and he would have been held responsible. 

In the meantime, the two nights that intervened between the 
dinner where the secretary formed his diabolical plan, and the 
day when the prisoner took charge of the office, were em- 
ployed by the secretary in conveying the city’s money, in amounts 
sufficiently small to be carried by himself, from the mayor’s 
office to a place of concealment where he had also conveyed a 
chest large enough to hold “ many thousands of pounds.” And 
early in the morning of that same day on which the prisoner 
took charge of the office, the 25th of August, before it was 
hardly light, he himself drove a wagon drawn by “ two strong 
horses,” bearing the heavy chest across Paulus’ ferry on the 
earliest boat, and made his way to the camp of the Hurons, the 
location of which he had previously ascertained. 

Now it must be perfectly evident to the jury that much of 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


281 


this last is mere inference. Had Mr. Cooper’s story been known 
earlier, witnesses could no doubt have been secured to prove it 
all — the man from whom the chest was bought, the man from 
whom the horses and wagon were bought, and the ferryman 
over Paulas’ ferry; but it will be time enough to secure these 
witnesses when the secretary is brought to trial . As for his ac- 
quaintance with the Hurons’ camp, he said, at that very dinner 
where he first met the prisoner, that he had that day been en- 
tertaining at the mayor’s office a party of Huron Braves, who 
were old friends of his, passing through the city on their way 
north. 

“ That young Mr. Cooper should have so opportunely turned 
up to add his testimony seemed like an interposition of the 
fates, or, more truly, of that Providence that I reverently be- 
lieve guides the affairs of mortals,” said Mr. Hamilton solemnly. 
“ There can be no doubt in the mind of anyone that the man 
he met leaving the camp of the Hurons in the Shawangunk 
Hills on the evening of the 25 v th of August was the man who 
said he left for Long Island in the morning of the 25th of Au- 
gust; who was sending his property to Lake Otsego, where he 
had told Miss Desloge he intended to buy an estate. If there 
had been any doubt in the mind of anyone, even after Mr. 
Cooper’s accurate description of the secretary, there could have 
been none after his dramatic recognition of him as he entered 
the court-room. I did not myself see that recognition — I 
purposely avoided looking at Mr. Cooper — but I saw it vividly 
reflected in the faces of the jurors. 

“You will tell me,” Mr. Hamilton went on, “that there is 
one weak point in this evidence: why did not this man disap- 
pear with his booty? He would have had two days’ start of 
any possible suspicion since he had announced he would be 
away from the office for two days. That so clever a man should 
have lingered about the seat of his crime until he became inex- 
tricably tangled in the toils he had so clumsily woven for an- 
other, is but another direct evidence, to my mind, of an over- 
ruling Providence. 

“But the means which that Providence took to accomplish 


282 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


its ends were simple. He would not leave until he could per- 
suade the woman he loved madly and blindly to leave with him. 
Once disencumbered of his booty, he believed he could come 
back and tell her of the rich inheritance that had fallen to him ; 
paint the charms of life on the beautiful Otsego and persuade 
her to marry him. That at first she gave him no encourage- 
ment, that she refused him as positively as she had done in 
Paris, did not discourage him, for she endeavored to make her 
refusal kind ; she could not but pity a passion which had seemed 
to take such entire possession of the man. 

“ Later, when she had begun to doubt the truth of his story 
of an inheritance, and when she began to fear he had some de- 
signs against Sir Lionel, she did not answer him so decidedly, 
but kept him dangling, hoping thus to discover his designs, 
if he had any, and frustrate them. Her suspicions were of the 
vaguest until on the sloop, Clermont, on their way up the Hud- 
son to West Point she, with others on the boat, noticed Mayor 
Livingston’s entire change of manner toward Sir Lionel — his 
coldness and his averted looks. In a flash her keen feminine 
intuition traced the change to its right source — the visit of 
Mayor Livingston to his office the evening before and the prob- 
ability that Mr. La Force had endeavored to poison the mayor’s 
mind against Sir Lionel as he had endeavored to poison hers. 
That night she wrote a letter to Mr. La Force and sent it back 
to New York from West Point by the commandant’s orderly, 
charging him with having slandered Sir Lionel, and demand- 
ing to know at once of what he accused him. Mr. La Force 
refused to tell her by letter, but promised she should know all 
when she came back to New York for the laying of the corner- 
stone. Of course, he accompanied this promise with another 
impassioned plea for himself. 

“ It was very soon after receiving this letter that Mr. Living- 
ston told her of the robbery and his secretary’s accusations 
against Sir Lionel. The whole matter seemed perfectly clear 
to Miss Desloge — that Mr. La Force was himself the criminal 
— but having no proof of the matter she did not dare accuse 
him to Mr. Livingston, who trusted him utterly, but contented 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


283 


herself with declaring she was absolutely sure of Sir Lionel’s 
innocence; and it was easier to confine herself to such protesta- 
tions because Mr. Livingston, also, did not believe him guilty. 

“ It was now within a few days of the time for starting for 
New York. Miss Desloge was in a terrible dilemma — what 
was her duty? Was it her duty to accuse Mr. La Force or at 
least to convey to Mr. Livingston her suspicions and give him 
her reasons for them? It seemed impossible to her to do that, 
remembering that she had once called him friend, and that, 
however false he might be in other matters, his love for her 
seemed true, sincere and ardent. While still debating her duty, 
she answered Mr. La Force’s letter by a brief note telling him 
she should hold him to his promise when she saw him in New 
York and saying nothing of the promise he had begged for in 
return. Her silence Mr. La Force took for encouragement, as 
she probably knew he would, and he met her on her return to 
New York with something of the confident air of an accepted 
suitor. This was a great trial to Miss Desloge, and with diffi- 
culty she schooled herself to treat him with ordinary civility. 
She would probably have been obliged to find relief for her 
feelings in confiding her suspicions to Mr. Livingston but for 
the fact of Sir Lionel’s unexpected appearance in New York and 
immediate arrest. The very next day his counsel was ap- 
pointed, and Miss Desloge sought him immediately, made a 
clean breast of her suspicions and difficulties and begged for 
advice. The advice was, on no account to say anything to any- 
one of her suspicions and to bear with Mr. La Force as best 
she could until the trial, which would be only a week away. 
She implored, if there was any possible way, to be excused from 
testifying, but there was none, though the examination was 
made as little difficult as possible for her. 

“ One other small point and I am done with my tale,” said 
Mr. Hamilton drawing more closely to the jurors and adopt- 
ing a quiet, confidential tone, “ Mr. La Force’s ‘ incontrovertible 
proof ’ was the marked coin, and the fact that he had marked 
every coin as it was deposited in the drawers. The veriest child 
could see how quickly he broke down under examination on that 


284 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


point — there were no marked coins . But Mr. La Force omit- 
ted to state — possibly it had passed his mind — that if Pom- 
pey's coin had been marked it could have been no proof of my 
client's guilt, for on the very day before my client took charge 
of the office, Mr. La Force had himself changed a large sum of 
English gold into American gold for him ” 

There was a stillness that could be felt in the court-room as 
Mr. Hamilton drew his slender figure up to its full height and 
regarded the jurors silently for a moment with those wonderful, 
flashing eyes. 

“ Gentlemen of the jury," he said slowly and impressively, 
“ I leave my client in your hands. You have heard the evi- 
dence, you have heard what I had to tell you in addition to or 
in explanation of the evidence. I cannot control your decision 
but I can demand," and here he wheeled suddenly and faced 
the judge with outstretched arm — “I do demand — the arrest 
of Mr. La Force!” 

It was when Mr. Hamilton had begun to tell of Miss Desloge's 
suspicions and the means she had employed to conceal them 
and to frustrate his designs, that I saw Mr. La Force's eyes 
drop, his hands clench, his whole body become rigid. Every 
eye but mine in that house was on Mr. Hamilton as he spoke 
his concluding words; mine, alone, were on Mr. La Force. I 
saw his swift glance about the room that discovered no one was 
watching him, and the sudden spring, light, swift, silent and 
graceful as the panther with which, in my thoughts, I had been 
comparing him. He was through the window and on the bal- 
cony, and no one seemed to have seen him but me. In my ex- 
citement I forgot that I was a prisoner. I leaped to my feet 
and shouted wildly, 6C Stop him ! Stop him ! He 's gone ! " 

In a moment everything was in the wildest confusion, and, 
still forgetting that I was a prisoner, I was over the railing of 
my box, across the platform and with one leap had cleared the 
space between the platform and the window before I remem- 
bered. No one was thinking of me, I could easily have escaped. 
I looked through the window and saw La Force running like 
the wind down Broad Street. How he had managed to get 


MADEMOISELLE KNOWS 


285 


down from that high balcony — the same that my Jehu had 
pointed out to me on the day of my arrival as the sacred spot 
where Washington had taken his first oath of office — I could 
not guess. But I was in an agony to follow him. What he 
had done, I was very sure I could do. There was no feat of 
agility I would not dare attempt, and everybody else was so 
slow, running back through the long room and down the long 
steps. 

At that moment I saw La Force disappear into a garden gate 
on Broad Street and still no pursuer in sight. I looked back 
at the judge and jury in an agony of spirit, for my soul had 
been wrought to the highest pitch of indignation and righteous 
anger during Mr. Hamilton’s speech, and the thought of La 
Force’s escape was unbearable. 

As I looked back a wonderful thing was taking place. The 
foreman of the jury was on his feet and, amid all the tumult, I 
heard him say: 

“Your Honor, the jury has come to a decision. May we 
give it without waiting for further proceedings ? ” 

The judge looked at the prosecuting attorney; the prosecut- 
ing attorney nodded his assent and the judge gave his. Jury, 
judge and counsel were anxious to be free and away after the 
fugitive. 

“ Not Guilty, Your Honor,” called the foreman quickly. 

“ I declare the prisoner free ! ” pronounced the judge, rising 
hastily to his feet as he spoke ; and the prisoner, shouting grate- 
fully but hurriedly, “ I thank Your Honor and the Jury,” was 
out of the window and away. 


XXIII 


ON THE TRAIL 

T WO weeks from the day I sprang out of the window of 
Federal Hall to follow La Force, almost to the very hour, 
a party of six rode up under the Clermont maples, a magnificent 
canopy of scarlet and gold fit for kings to walk under. And the 
six were Kemble, Ogden, Irving, Cooper, myself and — my big 
American ! 

When I had found my way to the ground from that high 
balcony by sliding down a slender water pipe I met the throng 
tumbling pellmell down the steps, and at my cry : “ He has 

gone through to the Broadway ! ” they turned and followed me 
instead of rushing down Broad Street, for which they were 
headed. 

But all our pursuit was fruitless. The Broadway was de- 
serted, and though we searched the house and garden I had 
seen him enter, we found no trace of him. An hour we spent 
in vain rushing up one street and down another, and at Cooper’s 
suggestion, out to the Paulus Hook ferry. But the ferry was 
just making its landing on the Jersey side. At that distance it 
was impossible to distinguish whether he was one of the little 
throng leaving the boat. It would be another hour before the 
ferry returned, we would have a breathing spell to determine 
on our plan of pursuit; for we had come to be as certain as 
young Cooper that he had crossed to the other side and was 
well on his way to Otsego Lake. And young William Jay 
being the bearer of a message from Mr. Livingston that he 
particularly desired my presence at his house, as he had a sur- 
prise in store for me, we arranged to meet there in an hour 
with all preparations made for our expedition. 

Kemble and William accompanied me to Mr. Livingston’s 
286 


ON THE TRAIL 


287 


and we were still talking eagerly of our plans as we walked 
back through Cortlandt Street and down Broadway to Number 
one. Kemble and I concluded that, if Cooper agreed with us, 
we would limit our party to four or five. A larger number 
would probably only retard our speed, and, if the Hurons were 
as friendly as Cooper represented them, there would be no ques- 
tion of fighting ; we would only have to lay the case before their 
chief to have La Force delivered up to us. William was begging 
to be allowed to go with us, but to this I would not hear. 

“ You are far too young, William,” I said firmly, “ to endure 
such a forced march as we must make, and there is no possible 
way of getting your father’s consent in time. Back to school 
you must go. But there is one friend,” I added, turning to 
Kemble and paying no attention to William’s loud demurrals, 
“ that I would give anything to have with us. He and his great 
horse Bourbon would be worth a dozen ordinary men and 
horses.” 

“ I know whom you mean. It ’s a pity there is no way of 
getting word to Philadelphia in time,” said Kemble gravely. 
Whereupon William uttered a short and most unmannerly laugh. 
I looked at him in some surprise, for I had discovered no occa- 
sion for laughing. He apologized at once, said he did not 
know why he laughed, and to cover his confusion began to insist 
that I must take Saladin with me. 

“Your friend’s horse could be no better than Saladin,” he 
declared proudly. 

“I don’t believe there’s a horse in the world better than 
Saladin, William,” I returned warmly, “ and if you are really 
willing that I should take him with me, nothing could give me 
greater pleasure.” 

“ I wish you would keep him and call him your own while 
you are in this country, Sir Lionel,” said the boy shyly. He 
had been developing a sort of hero worship for me since my 
arrest and now nothing could be too good for me. 

I was glad I was to have Saladin for this emergency, but 
all the time we had been discussing him I was saying to my- 
self — “ In a few minutes I will see Mademoiselle. How will 


288 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


she receive me? What must I say to her? What words can I 
ever find to express my gratitude?” I thought little of the 
surprise in store for me, and when I did it was only with an 
uneasy feeling that Mayor Livingston was preparing some pub- 
lic demonstration of congratulations that would be little to 
my taste. 

Yet when the surprise came it put to flight, for the time, all 
thoughts of Mademoiselle. As we entered Mr. Livingston’s no- 
ble library, the low western sun illuminated strongly a little 
group standing in a bow window at the end of The room. It 
turned Mademoiselle’s hair to burnished copper and I could not 
be sure whether it was the sun or some strong emotion that 
made her wonderful eyes glow like stars as they were raised to 
someone with whom she was talking. For a moment I looked 
only at Mademoiselle, then I too lifted my eyes to see with 
whom she could be talking. Bending toward her, his golden 
curls like an aureole about his fine head, his dark blue eyes 
beaming with interest and friendliness, stood the man who, 
every time I had seen him, had made me think of a Greek god, 
the man who more than any other man I would like to have for 
a companion on the expedition to Otsego. He lifted his 
head at that moment and saw me and came toward me quickly, 
both hands outstretched, in the fashion I suppose he had learned 
in France ; and he looked so glad to see me I was half afraid he 
was going to kiss me after the French fashion, and I was so glad 
to see him I would not have minded much if he had. 

“Did my wishing for you bring you?” I asked, when the 
first greetings were over. 

“I came the moment I heard of your troubles, but I see I 
came too late to be of any service, for which I am half sorry,” 
he answered. 

“ How long can you stay ? ” I asked abruptly. 

“ I came intending to stay as long as you needed me. Since 
you do not need me, I must return to-morrow, I think.” 

“ Is it because of your father you must go so soon ? ” I asked 
anxiously. 

“ My father is better, very much better, or I could not have 


ON THE TRAIL 


289 


left him. He urged me to come, but I know he misses me, 
and if I can be of no service here, my place is beside him.” 

I did not answer. I was not sure that I ought to say what 
I was longing to say — “ Come with us to find La Force.” 

These few minutes that we had been talking together, the 
whole company had stood silently looking on, their faces beam- 
ing with their sympathy in our joy at the meeting, as I dis- 
covered when I looked around me now. Mayor Livingston 
was the first to come forward to speak to me and then the others 
crowded around, eager to express their delight in the verdict. 
Mademoiselle was the last and was a little shy, I thought, which 
was unusual for her, for I had often envied her perfect self- 
possession, which never seemed to desert her in any crisis. But 
when I tried to thank her for what she had done for me, she 
interrupted me, and I thought she spoke coldly. 

“ I could do no less. Sir Lionel ; I got you into this trouble. 
It behooved me to do all I could to help you out of it.” 

u Got me into it ? ” I echoed, not seeing in the least what 
connection she had with my trouble, and being very stupid that 
I did not see. 

“ Yes.” She colored painfully and spoke with effort. “ If 
you do not see in what way I am responsible, I am very 
glad, but none the less I know that, but for me, you would 
never have had to endure the suffering and ignominy of the 
last week and I feel that I have not done half enough — I can 
never do enough — to atone for it.” 

Then it flashed into my mind what she meant. Of course; 
it was La Force’s desire to win her that had proved too strong 
for him to resist the temptation of taking the money, and it 
was his jealousy of me that had made him select me as his 
victim. 

“ All right,” I answered her gayly, for my spirits were rising 
with every word she said. “ Have it as you will. I like very 
well indeed to have you feel under obligation to me, for I have 
so long been owing you the life you saved from the yellow fever, 
that the burden of debt had begun to be very heavy. Shall we 
call it quits now and begin all over ? ” 

19 


290 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


“ Yes, if you like/' with a gay little smile and that familiar 
twinkle in her eye. 

A black servant had just announced dinner and Mademoiselle 
and I were for a moment apart in the bow window while Mayor 
Livingston was gathering his guests together. 

“ Then if we are beginning all over/' I said quickly, and in 
so low a voice no one could overhear, “ I want you to take back 
what you said — that you would never marry anyone but a 
Frenchman." 

“ Did I say that ? " with a teasing smile. 

“ Have you forgotten it ? " 

She saw that I was too deeply in earnest to admit of jesting. 

u No, Sir Lionel," she said gravely, “ I have not forgotten it. 
But I must say once more I will never marry anyone but one 
of my own countrymen." 

The time had been ill chosen. I should not have ventured 
on a renewal of my suit at such a moment, when I must face 
a dinner table full of friends with an unmoved countenance. 
But something in her eyes and her twinkling smile had lured 
me on irresistibly to my fall. The blood rushed back to my 
heart in a torrent at her words, and it took every atom of will 
power I possessed to hold myself steady and keep my lips firm 
as I bowed silently and offered her my arm to conduct her to 
the table. She must have seen my painful struggle and to 
divert my mind, no doubt, she said teasingly : 

“ But who knows ! If Bonaparte has his usual good luck in 
this war, England will be a French province and we will all 
be good Frenchmen together." 

She angered me, as she knew she would, for no good Briton 
could hear Bonaparte so spoken of, even in jest, without flashing 
fire. 

“ I will die first, Mademoiselle," I exclaimed proudly, look- 
ing defiance straight into her eyes. 

And what did I see in her eyes? I believed with all my 
heart it was a generous glow of admiration and I seated her at 
the table with a lighter heart than I would have thought pos- 
sible a few minutes before. 


OiNT THE TRAIL 


291 


I had tried before dinner to express my thanks to Mr. Ham- 
ilton, and my admiration of the manner in which he had con- 
ducted my case, though I had not succeeded to my own 
satisfaction, since it had been in a hubbub of greetings and con- 
gratulations. I was seated near him at table and since, for 
the moment, I did not feel equal to saying anything further to 
Mademoiselle Desloge, I turned to him to make a fuller ac- 
knowledgment of my debt to him. Mademoiselle, it seemed 
to me, rather welcomed the opportunity to talk to Mr. Living- 
ston, on whose left she sat — Mrs. Hamilton being on his right, 
of course — and so I was somewhat distracted and floundered 
in my thanks. 

“ I never won an easier case / 5 said Mr. Hamilton smiling. 
“ Miss Desloge and Mr. Cooper did all the work. And, by the 
way, what has become of Mr. Cooper ? 55 

“ He is waiting at Paulus Hook Ferry, sir, to find out 
whether or not Mr. La Force crossed. He will be here to re- 
port soon, I think, and, if he did cross, Mr. Cooper is going 
to guide us to the Huron camp, provided he can get leave of 
absence . 55 

Everybody stopped to listen to this announcement and there 
was an immediate chorus — Who 5 s going? When do you 
start? and many other questions impossible to answer in a 
breath. When I had succeeded in making it clear that we would 
probably start within an hour or two, and that we thought it 
best to limit our number to four or five, Irving, who, with 
Mayor Livingston, had conducted the ladies home from the 
trial and so had not been with us in the pursuit, called from 
the lower end of the table, “ I am one of the five, Sir Lionel ! 55 

“With all my heart 55 — I began, but almost in the same 
breath, Mayor Livingston and Mr. Hamilton interrupted. 

“ You must not think of it, Washington ! 55 exclaimed the 
mayor authoritatively. 

“Your health will not allow it; your family would not per- 
mit it , 55 said Mr. Hamilton more gently. 

I saw Irving color with annoyance. I learned later that he 
never liked to have his health spoken of, but I had myself 


292 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


noted that he had a troublesome cough and looked far from 
strong. He recovered his equanimity in a moment, however, 
and answered with his usual gayety. 

“ If it ’s only my health that prevents, nothing could be better 
for me, and my family will be more than willing. They are 
talking of sending me on a long horseback trip through the 
mountains north of Saratoga for the very purpose of giving 
me some rough out-door life to counteract the effects of my 
severe application to my law studies.” 

This last was said with a droll affectation of solemnity and 
was greeted with a shout of laughter, for Irving’s laziness in 
his profession and skill in slighting his studies was well known. 

In the interchange of chaffing that followed I took no part, 
for it was sufficiently noisy to give me an opportunity to say 
something to Miss Lesloge that I greatly desired to say. 

“ Mademoiselle,” I said, “ I inadvertently saw a letter lying 
on the hall table at West Point addressed to Mr. La Force; it 
was a great relief of mind to me when I learned to-day the 
object of that letter.” 

“ Oh ! ” she exclaimed, twinkling and dimpling as she always 
did when she was merry. “ That was it, was it ? I could not 
guess what ailed you that first week at Clermont, and I have 
always wanted to know.” 

I was not in a merry mood, but I could never resist her, when 
her eyes twinkled. 

“ What a silly bear you must have thought me, but you will 
own a letter written to my rival, and burning the midnight oil 
in your haste to get it off, was enough to give me an attack of 
the grumps.” 

“ More than enough. But I honestly never thought you silly, 
though I can’t deny you were a little of a bear.” 

“ Not a cub, I hope.” 

“ Oh, no ! Not a little bear, but a big, growling Bruin that 
frightened me to death every time I looked at him. And I had 
meant to be so nice to you at Clermont and I thought we would 
have such good times together, and you spoiled them all. I 
was dreadfully disappointed.” 


ON THE TRAIL 


293 


“ I wish I could think so/* I answered, “ but I cannot believe 
that anyone but I suffered the pangs of disappointment.** 

“ Oh, not pangs, perhaps, but a sort of — gentle regret. And 
all about a foolish letter.** 

“Not all about a foolish letter,** I corrected, “but foolishly, 
all about a letter.** 

“ Yes, that *s better. But enough of the letter. I have 
something very serious to say to you.** 

“You frighten me. But say on. My courage is screwed to 
the sticking point.** 

“ Do not jest, please. I beg you will not go with the pursuit.** 

Her eyes were wells of tenderness; I hardly dared look down 
into them while she spoke so gently and so winningly. But I 
steeled my heart against her softness. 

“Not go with the pursuit? But I am the pursuit. To me, 
more than to anyone, belongs the duty of bringing the criminal 
to justice and restoring the city’s money to Mayor Livingston.** 

I had forgotten for the moment that La Force had once been 
a friend of hers and it would be strange indeed if there were 
not some tenderness lingering in her heart for him; and that 
it was for him and not for me that she was begging. But if I 
had forgotten it, for a moment, it came back to me with a 
flash when she answered me severely : 

“Less to you than to anyone. You have borne enough and 
suffered enough. I hope, with all my heart, for Mr. Living- 
ston’s sake, that the city’s money will be recovered, but if Mr. 
La Force is to be captured, I hope you will have no hand in it.” 

It was on the tip of my tongue to demand sternly, “ Why ? ** 
but at that moment Mr. Ogden and Mr. Cooper were announced, 
and in the excitement that followed there was no further oppor- 
tunity for speech with Mademoiselle. 

There could be no doubt that La Force had been one of the 
passengers. Though the ferryman did not know him, he had 
noticed a passenger answering accurately to his description. 
More than that, as good fortune would have it, Captain Drake 
had been one of the return passengers on his way home from a 
visit to Liberty Hall, and had readily granted the leave of 


294 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


absence to young Cooper when he heard the case, and the ferry- 
man was willing to take ns across at any moment we should 
appoint. 

Kemble, Irving and I, with one impulse, and without waiting 
for apologies to our host, sprang to our feet at these tidings. 

“We are ready!” I exclaimed. “And here are the five: 
Kemble, Irving, Ogden, Mr. Cooper and myself. Shall we start 
at once, gentlemen ? ” 

“You have forgotten me,” said Lloyd, rising to his feet as 
he spoke, and smiling down on me across the table. 

My heart gave a great bound. 

“ Do you mean it ? ” I cried. 

“ I never meant anything more. I should have missed my 
aim in coming, if I could not help you in this emergency.” 

“ I would rather have you and Bourbon than an army with 
banners!” I cried enthusiastically. “Can he go, Kemble?” 

“ You ’re captain, Sir Lionel,” laughed Kemble, “ and I 
reckon he ’ll have to go. You would rather have him than all 
the rest of us put together.” 

“ Not quite, but almost. But to have him with all you others 
makes us invincible.” 

It was all excitement and confusion for the next hour. Og- 
den, Kemble, Irving and Cooper rushed off to see about horses 
and other arrangements; Lloyd and I hurried around to the 
City Tavern for Bourbon and Saladin, and to make some neces- 
sary preparations for the expedition ; “ Mammy,” at Mr. Living- 
ston’s orders, set to work providing delicacies enough to provi- 
sion an army of epicures, and William was dispatched, greatly 
to his delight at being allowed to help, to see that the ferryman 
would be ready for us at seven. 

Por a few minutes all was excitement and confusion, there 
was little time for farewells among the multiplicity of directions 
and instructions; but one word with Mademoiselle I hoped for 
and got. Mr. Hamilton was saying to me with his whimsical 
smile : 

“ It ’s a good thing you did n’t take me up on my two wagers* 


ON THE TRAIL 


295 


Sir Lionel. I should have lost both of them. The jury did 
not go out at all and I see no prospect of the criminal spending 
the night in the Bridewell.” 

“ I *11 take you that he will spend this night two weeks there, 
Mr. Hamilton/* cried Ogden. 

I saw a quick contraction of Miss Desloge*s brow, and knew 
what it meant. I took an instant resolve. While the others 
were discussing the wager, laughing and noisily, I turned to her 
and spoke quietly: 

“ This much I promise you, Mademoiselle, if I can find any 
honorable way to secure Mayor Livingston*s money and allow 
Mr. La Force to escape I will do it.** 

Her troubled face flashed into smiles. 

“ Oh, thank you ! ** was all she said, but she extended her 
hand impulsively and I could not be mistaken — a gentle pres- 
sure returned my ardent one. 

And so that was how my friend Lloyd came to be one of the 
six riding up under the Clermont maples. And a tower of 
strength he had proved, just as I knew he would. Dashing 
down the rocky defiles of the Shawangunks, black night all about 
us, the woods, for aught we knew, full of unfriendly savages; 
often hearing the snarl of a wild cat, the stealthy glide of a 
snake or the blood-curdling cry of a panther, so like a living 
child’s, his nerves were as steady as if he were riding down the 
Broadway and his Indian lore and his lore of the woods served 
us in good stead more than once. 

When we had left the wild mountains behind us we followed 
the windings of the river with the beautiful Indian name 
through a smiling region of meadow, field and orchard; com- 
fortable farmhouses with big barns behind them, bursting with 
garnered grain ; golden pumpkins lying on sunny slopes between 
dried stalks of Indian corn stripped of their ears and left to 
turn brown in the weather; orchards gay with men and women 
wearing jackets and shawls of warm red or brilliant blue to 
protect them from the frosty air while they gathered the crim- 


296 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


son apples and packed them in barrels for the market or tossed 
them into great hampers to be stowed away in cellar bins for 
winter eating; and under every spreading chestnut or stately 
walnut youthful harvesters were making the woods ring as they 
gathered their rich crop of nuts. 

Hill and valley were aflame. Never had I dreamed of any- 
thing so gorgeous as that riot of crimson and gold. And as 
we rode gayly through this fair landscape, the air we breathed 
and through which we saw all this blaze of beauty was so softly 
golden and so crisply exhilarating it was like the sparkling, 
amber-colored wine of Orvieto, and no wonder we burst often 
into rollicking song more like a band of troubadours at some 
gay pageant than like a little company of men intent on an 
errand of stern justice. 

And if Lloyd was not as foolishly gay as some of us he was 
no damper on the effervescing spirits of anyone, and it was due 
to him, I have no doubt, that our passage through the smiling 
farm lands was a triumphal progress. From every orchard and 
every chestnut grove boys and girls trooped out to bring us 
apples and nuts from their store; and did we but stop at a 
farmhouse for a drink of water, shy maidens and comely 
matrons pressed upon us milk, and bread and butter, and 
always a kind of cake they called variously “ fried-cake," 
“ cruller," or “ doughnut"; and no matron or no maiden had 
an eye for any one of the six but the beautiful blonde giant, 
nor ear for any thanks but his, most courteously expressed. 

On the last day we rode along a high shelf overlooking the 
valley of the winding river, catching an occasional silvery 
glimpse of it through the thick copses that marked its course, 
and descending, toward evening, to cross the little river at a 
ford near its head which Cooper knew, as he had known every 
step of the way, so far — we would, indeed, often have been 
at a loss without him. He led us through a shaded grotto 
where overhanging maples and birches made a perfect lady's 
bower, to a great bowlder projecting half into the lake and half 
into the river at the very point where the two met. And there 


ON THE TRAIL 


297 


framed by the arching foliage, there burst upon us the jewelled 
lake lying, opal-tinted, under the amethyst haze of sunset, be- 
tween soft slopes of emerald turf on the west and bold rocky 
headlands on the east, flaming in the topaz and ruby of birch 
and maple. 

As we stood, lost in the amazing splendor of the glowing lake, 
Cooper pointed out to us, far up the eastern side, some strange- 
looking huts, and a curl of faint blue smoke that he said was 
the camp of the Hurons. 

“ And what is the smoke on the western shore ? ” asked Lloyd 
in his calm voice, indicating with extended arm a blue column 
rising just beyond a point of land running out into the lake. 
Cooper uttered a hasty exclamation. 

“ Strange ! Can it be possible the Hurons have divided into 
two camps? The one on the western shore is at Three Mile 
Point, their old camping ground. When I saw the one on the 
east I supposed they had changed their location for some reason. 
I fear me now the eastern camp may belong to hostile Indians/’ 

As he spoke, from behind the wooded Three Mile Point, fol- 
lowing a road leading toward the head of the lake, we distinctly 
saw a wagon emerge, drawn by a pair of horses and driven furi- 
ously. 

“ Quick, Cooper ! Look ! ” I exclaimed excitedly. “ Is that 
La Force’s wagon ? ” 

“ Can you tell whether there is one white horse and one black 
one ? ” he cried eagerly. 

We all strained our eyes to see, but it was Lloyd who an- 
swered quietly : 

u Yes, the off horse is white, the nigh one is black.” 

And every man of us knew that La Force had reached the 
Huron camp ahead of us, secured his treasure, and was hurry- 
ing away with it to some point he believed more secure. 

Nor was there one of us who stopped for a moment to regret 
the good supper and comfortable lodgings Cooper had assured 
us were awaiting us at his father’s house in the little village 
just across the sparkling Susquehanna. But each one tight- 


298 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


ened his saddle girths and looked well to pistols and powder 
before he sprang once more into his saddle, with a glance of 
the eye so stern and a set of the jaw so grim as I had never 
before seen in those light-hearted lads. 


XXIY 


WE CAPTURE THE CHEST AND AN OWL SCREECHES 

A FORCE had a good four miles the start of us, so Cooper 



said, and his horses were fresh, yet we did not for a mo- 


ment doubt that, even with our jaded steeds, we could overtake 
him, since he was encumbered with a wagon. 

It was odd, but no command had been given for that pur- 
suit; we were of one mind and acted as one man. Galloping 
madly around the curving southern shore of the lake and then 
along the western slopes, sometimes having our quarry in view, 
oftener losing him behind projecting points of land or where 
the road dipped into the forest, as it often did, only to reappear 
again and follow the pebbly curve of the beach, I thought many 
times of my promise to Mademoiselle. How I was to keep it, 
I could hardly see. "With the best will in the world the others 
would overrule me — of that I was sure, so grim and forbid- 
ding was each man’s face as he rode. Even the laughing Irv- 
ing, incarnate spirit of jollity, was for once as stern as any 
judge. Lloyd rode up beside me where the trail broadened. 

“ What is it. Sir Lionel ? 39 

c< What is what ? 33 I asked. 

“ What is troubling you ? You have been brooding over 
something for the last ten minutes.” 

And then I told him of my promise to Miss Desloge and 
how little prospect I saw of being able to redeem it, and how 
uncertain I felt whether I had any right to try. 

Lloyd thought a moment before he answered. Indeed, I 
had often noted it as one of his peculiarities that when he had 
anything of weight to say he always stopped first to think. I 
wish I could learn it of him, I so often speak impulsively to 
my cost. At last he spoke. 


299 


300 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


“ I believe you are right to try,” he said slowly. “ There 
is something due Miss Desloge in this affair, for, without her 
willingness to sacrifice herself in the cause of justice, the truth 
would probably never have been known. And, after all, the 
money is the thing.” 

I was glad he did not intimate that it was for my sake she 
had made the sacrifice, though sometimes, when I remembered 
the glance she gave me as she left the witness-box, I half per- 
suaded myself that it was partly, at least, for my sake. 

“But how am I to accomplish it?” I asked Lloyd. “I am 
very sure neither Irving, Cooper, Kemble nor Ogden will con- 
sent to letting him go.” 

“Leave that to the opportunities of the moment,” he an- 
swered. “ I will help you, and I believe between us both we can 
so mapage as to make it appear unintentional on our part, and 
impossible of prevention by any of us.” 

And then, hesitating a little, as he always did when he had 
any confidence to make about the Comtesse de Baloit, he told 
me of his like experience with the Chevalier Le Moyne, whom 
he had allowed to escape at the request of the comtesse. 

It had been nearly two months since I had seen Lloyd; in 
that time he might easily have heard from the comtesse and 
I could not forbear asking him if he had. 

“ Only once,” he answered, “ about two weeks after my return. 
I think it more than likely that by this time she has married 
the Prince de Polignac; it would be most suitable, and in any 
event it is a closed chapter with me.” 

The grim set of his jaws, the sternly mournful glance of his 
eyes told his tale. I was silent, for I knew not how to express 
the sympathy that wrung my heart, and in a moment he re- 
covered himself and turned to me with an effort at gaiety : 

“But tell me of Mademoiselle Desloge. Prom what I could 
observe it seemed to me that your friendship had progressed 
far since our voyage on the Sea Gull/' 

“As far as I could carry it,” I answered gloomily. “But 
she will have none of me. She vows she will never marry any- 
one but a Frenchman.” 


WE CAPTURE THE CHEST 


301 


An exclamation from Cooper, just behind us, interrupted the 
words of friendly encouragement Lloyd was beginning to utter. 

“ Look, Sir Lionel ! ” he cried, “ I believe he ’s making for 
that other camp ! What do you suppose that means ? ” 

We had been for a few moments so engaged in our own 
affairs, Lloyd and I, that though still galloping on, we had 
neglected to keep watch of La Force. Now, at Cooper’s ex- 
clamation, I saw that he had emerged from the woods at the 
head of the lake, and instead of keeping a northerly course, 
as we had supposed he would, toward the Canadian border, he 
was turning south again toward that other camp on the eastern 
shore of the lake. None of us could understand why, but we 
thought it possible the Hurons could explain it to us and we 
were just rounding that Three Mile Point on the other side 
of which lay their camp. 

It was my first acquaintance with an Indian camp, and my 
first meeting with Indians. The camp was curious enough 
with its round huts formed of leafy boughs (though one or 
two were of skins stretched on poles), and its motley 
throng of children, dogs and squaws with papooses strapped 
on their backs. They were making ready their supper to 
be eaten in the open around the camp-fires, and we were hungry 
enough to make the odor of their venison, roasting on spits 
before the open fire, seem good to our nostrils, and the sight 
of the coarse cakes, baking on hot stones, enticing to our 
eyes. The chief, with the older men and the young braves about 
him, was seated at a little distance gravely watching the prepa- 
rations for supper, and none of them offered help to the squaws, 
not even so much as to carry the heavy buckets of water from 
the nearby spring. At sight of us the men, all but the old 
chief, rose to their feet, and two of the young braves came for- 
ward to question us as to our business. They recognized 
Cooper and readily granted his request for an interview with 
the chief. 

I confess I was greatly impressed with the dignity and for- 
mality with which the interview was conducted. The young 
men were dismissed with an imperious wave of the old chief’s 


302 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


hand, and only the older men, who seemed to form a kind of 
cabinet, remained for the conference. They all spoke a little 
English, and understood it better than they spoke it, there- 
fore Cooper insisted I should take my place as Captain 
and conduct the interview. He said the Hurons were very 
jealous of their dignity and would not consider themselves 
treated with the proper courtesy should the duty of spokesman 
be relegated to the youngest member of the party. I suggested 
then that Lloyd be made spokesman, both his size and bearing 
could not fail to impress the savages, but he flatly refused the 
office and there was nothing left for me but to undertake it. 

It was necessary that our conference should be brief, and 
yet both Lloyd and Cooper impressed upon me that there should 
be no appearance of haste and no neglect of complimentary 
forms. I flattered myself that I conducted it with some di- 
plomacy; but with all the skill I could muster the old chief 
was more than my match. The only information I succeeded 
in extracting from him was that La Force had entrusted him 
with the care of a box and a wagon and horses a few weeks 
before, and that he had returned, as he had said he would, and 
but a brief half hour ago had left the camp with wagon, horses 
and box. He professed to know nothing of the contents of 
the box nor of La Force’s destination. Also he professed to 
know nothing of the Indians encamped on the other shore. 
Doubtless they were as friendly to their white brethren as 
were the Hurons, and if, as the Pale-face captain said, the 
box contained money stolen from the White Father in the Great 
City, he did not doubt that it would be only necessary to tell 
our story to the chief of those other Indians and he would 
deliver up the box and the “ Paleface with the devil eyes.” 

I quote the chief’s designation for La Force, and I confess 
it pleased me; I could not have described him better. But in 
spite of the “ devil eyes,” or perhaps by means of them, I be- 
lieve La Force had obtained some secret and powerful influence 
over the old chief, and while professing great willingness to 
assist us in our pursuit, he was really doing all he could to 
retard us and give La Force more time for escape. He drew 


WE CAPTURE THE CHEST 


303 


out the conference to a length that made us all impatient 
before we could extract even this meager information from him, 
and when, finally, with many thanks for the kindness of the 
great chief to his white brother, I sought to bring the interview 
to a close, he pressed us so urgently to share the meal we could 
see was almost ready, that we found it difficult to decline with- 
out offending or appearing to offend the hospitable Hurons. 
Some of the good brown cakes we secured to take with us and 
eat as we rode (and we found them better to the eyes than to 
the taste, though they satisfied the cravings of hunger) a 
shining gold piece proving too much for the chief’s sense of 
hospitality and dignity. A second gold piece procured us what 
we needed even more than food for ourselves, grain for our 
horses, and we rode away, each man’s pockets stuffed with the 
brown cakes and a bag of grain dangling from his saddle bow. 

I had noted two of the young braves in close conference with 
Cooper while our negotiations for the bread and grain were 
in process. How, as we galloped on toward the head of the lake. 
Cooper rode up beside me to tell me the substance of the con- 
ference. They had warned Cooper not to trust the other In- 
dians too far; they were not so friendly as the Hurons. They 
were Canadian Indians, who spoke a little French but no 
English, and were inclined always to be far more friendly to 
a Frenchman than to an Englishman. La Force knew this and 
counted upon their protection to the Canadian border. 

Moreover, the young braves had had many questions to ask 
Cooper about our party, whence they had come and why; but 
more particularly were they curious about Lloyd, whose size and 
beauty seemed to have impressed them greatly. They regarded 
him as some kind of a Paleface god, Cooper thought, and I did 
not wonder. 

The sun had set and the late moon had not yet risen when 
we drew near the second camp, but a glowing camp-fire, whose 
red reflection was flung far out on the waters of the lake, guided 
us directly to our goal. Since these Indians spoke only French, 
Lloyd, to whom French was as easy as his mother tongue, was 
to conduct the negotiations. I wonder that we felt no more 


304 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


uneasiness than we did as we approached the camp, for the 
warning of the yonng Hurons ought to have forearmed us. 
But we had found the Hurons so friendly that, for myself, at 
least, I had lost, in a great measure, my fear of any savage. 
They were evidently expecting us, and their warriors had 
donned all their finery to impress us. Imposing head-dresses 
of bright-hued feathers, brilliant-colored blankets worn with 
something of the dignity and grace of a Boman toga, richly 
beaded moccasins and belts from which hung the glittering 
tomahawk made a brave show, and quite satisfied the ideal I 
had formed of the appearance of an Indian. They wore no 
firearms, but a disorderly heap of rifles was piled within easy 
reach. La Force was nowhere in sight, nor was his wagon, 
but once I caught a distant sound that I recognized as the neigh 
of a horse, and I believed it came from one of La Force’s 
horses. 

The first part of the interview was most friendly, though 
most false. They had not seen any Paleface with horses and 
a wagon; no doubt the one we sought had gone on beyond 
their camp farther down the lake. If their white brethren 
liked, the chief of the Iroquois would furnish some of his young 
men as guides to conduct them through the forest, since on 
this side of the lake the cliffs rose straight from the water 
and there was no road along the shore. 

Lloyd professed himself grateful for the chief’s offer; he 
would consult with his friends and possibly, after a night’s rest, 
which they greatly needed, they would be glad to avail them- 
selves of the proffered guides. With much formality and 
many stately compliments — this much I could understand, 
even with my poor French — he made his adieus. The chief 
pressed upon him the hospitality of the camp, supper and a 
lodge for himself and his friends, and I believe, had anyone 
but Lloyd been conducting the interview, we would never have 
been permitted to decline the hospitality; we would have been 
seized then and there. But Lloyd inspired the Iroquois with 
something of the same awe the Hurons had felt for him, and 
to them also, I have no doubt, he was a “ Paleface god ” and. 


WE CAPTURE THE CHEST 


305 


at least so long as he was mounted on that magnificent black 
stallion, often impatiently snorting and pawing the ground, 
they dared not lay hands on him. 

They allowed ns all to withdraw unmolested to some distance 
in the woods, where we made a hasty camp for the night. 
Purposely, I had guided my party in the direction of the neigh 
I had heard. I thought it possible we might come upon the 
wagon and seize the box of treasure and make off with it in 
the night, leaving La Force to his Indian friends ; in which case, 
I would have accomplished both my purposes — recovered the 
city’s money and fulfilled my promise to Mademoiselle Desloge. 

When we had found a little spring (this country seemed 
to be full of them) and fed and tethered our horses, I held a 
council of war. We had lighted no camp-fire and we talked 
with bated breath, for we hoped, if possible, to conceal our loca- 
tion from the Iroquois. Had I known Indians and their meth- 
ods better, I would have known how vain such a hope was. I 
divulged my plan that two of our number should stay with the 
horses and the other four reconnoiter on foot, and, if possible, 
discover and carry away the box of treasure. Since Cooper 
had had experience with the great weight of the box, and since 
it would neither be feasible to burden any one of the horses 
with it, nor possible to steal the wagon without being discov- 
ered, it was part of my plan to bury the treasure at once, in 
a spot so marked that we could return to it after the Iroquois 
and La Force had left the country. 

Lloyd at first demurred to my plan. He was very sure the 
box was strongly guarded and we would only get into trouble. 
He believed the best way was to wait until morning, go again 
to the Iroquois chief and demand the treasure in the name of 
the Great Father at Washington, a name that carried terror to 
the heart of every miscreant Indian. 

I am not sure that the result would have been any different 
had we followed Lloyd’s advice, but Ogden, Irving, Cooper and 
Kemble were all for my plan, and Lloyd, seeing he was in a hope- 
less minority, yielded with a good grace and went into it heart 
and soul. We waited only until we believed the Iroquois camp 
20 


306 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


was buried in slumber. Cooper and Irving were left with the 
horses, and guided by an occasional soft sound as of the restive 
hoofs of a horse, the rest of us groped our way slowly through 
the blackness; at times, standing still and holding our breath 
when one of us had inadvertently stepped on a little branch 
or had rustled the dry leaves by a careless shuffle, when each 
foot should have been lifted high and set down noiselessly. 
After one such misstep, when it seemed to me the snap of the 
breaking branch was as loud as the report of a pistol and would 
wake the seven sleepers, we stood a full two minutes as if 
carved from stone before I would give the muffled order to go on. 
And once I was almost sure I caught the sound of another 
stealthy foot that belonged to none of us, and we waited another 
two minutes, scarcely daring to breathe and listening for the 
sound again. 

Our progress was slow and often we lost our direction and 
had to retrace our steps, so that it must have been almost an 
hour before we came so near the horses that we could hear the 
quiet breathing of one as if asleep and the soft munch of 
the other, evidently browsing, and yet I do not think they 
could have been more than two hundred yards from the spot 
where our own horses were tethered. But we had no use for 
their horses and it was necessary that we should not startle 
them lest they give the alarm to the camp. It was the wagon 
we were after, and groping our way from tree to tree, keeping 
well out of the horses’ path, we finally stumbled upon the 
wagon. It was Ogden whose extended arm touched it first and 
reaching out with his other arm to find Lloyd and me in the 
dark, he silently drew us to its side. 

Now I had been very sure La Force would have left his heavy 
box in the wagon that he might be ready to fly on an instant’s 
warning, but I had been quite as sure he would leave it well 
guarded, and to remove the box without alarming the guards 
I had feared would prove an almost impossible task. I had 
yet to learn what a wonderful thing is strength, and what a 
marvelous degree of it Lloyd possessed, combined with the 
quietness of nerve that neither worries nor hurries over an 


WE CAPTURE THE CHEST 


307 


appointed task. The task had not been of his seeking, he had 
been as sure as I that the treasure would be well guarded, 
but the exploit having been decided upon he proceeded to 
execute it in as matter-of-fact fashion as if there had been 
no daring needed. And Ogden was as brave and almost as 
cool. He was neither quite so powerful nor quite so cool- 
headed as Lloyd, but he was not far behind him in either 
quality. He on one side of the wagon, and Lloyd on the other, 
with an almost incredible deliberation and strength, slowly 
moved the chest to the open end of the wagon and so out of 
it, while Kemble and I stood on guard, a pistol in each hand, 
ready for instant action should the guard be aroused. But no 
guard appeared, and silently, stealthily, we moved cautiously 
back to our camp. 

In that short journey it was necessary to stop and rest 
several times and so slow was our progress that almost another 
hour was consumed before we reached our camp. We could 
hardly believe our own good fortune that we should have ac- 
complished our mission without molestation; there only re- 
mained to bury our treasure and steal away before daylight 
should discover his loss to La Force. But here a new diffi- 
culty confronted us. We had neither pickax nor spade, the 
soil was hard and gravelly, and we could do little with only 
our hands or, at best, sticks for tools. I was for forcing open 
the box and filling our saddle bags with as much of the treasure 
as we could carry, leaving the rest of his ill-gotten gains to 
La Force. But the box was strongly made and strongly 
barred. Without tools that, too, would have been a work of 
time and, would perhaps, have necessitated a noise that would 
betray us. 

While we were still discussing the matter in whispers the 
moon, which had lately risen but up to this time had been 
obscured behind a high hill to the east of us, casting all that 
part of the forest into black shadow, now appeared above the 
hill crest, and though its rays were still obstructed by the 
trees, it shed a mild radiance quite sufficient to discover our 
surroundings to us. We glanced around us rather fearfully, 


308 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


not sure but the light would reveal us to the Iroquois, and we 
saw with relief that we were not in view of their camp. But 
Cooper saw something else, also, and a hasty exclamation, only 
half smothered, escaped him. He sprang to his feet as he 
spoke : 

“ Gentlemen, I know the very spot! Natty Bumpo’s cave! 
Do you think we could manage to get the chest half way up 
that hill ? ” pointing to the rocky promontory west of us, rising 
precipitately from the water on the lake’s side but of a more 
gradual slope on the side toward us. 

Ogden shrugged his shoulders and looked doubtful. 

“ It was all we could manage on the level,” he whispered. 

Lloyd thought a moment before he spoke. 

“ If we could get some rope and some strong poles,” he said 
slowly, “ we could four of us carry it on our shoulders ; but we 
have no rope, have we ? ” 

“Yes,” I answered eagerly, “we have. We can use the 
tethering ropes from the horses. I am sure Saladin needs no 
tether and I do not believe either Natty Bumpo or Bourbon do, 
either.” 

In a moment we were all excitement. Irving, Cooper and 
Kemble set out to find the poles and Lloyd, Ogden and I cut the 
tethering ropes, bound the chest with them, and, thanks to my 
sea-training at Clover Combe, I knotted securely, sailor fashion, 
loops at the four corners through which to slip the poles Cooper 
and Irving had found ready to their hand, the wreck of some 
recent storm. 

We were of one mind that Irving was not strong enough to 
take a hand in the bearing of the chest. He was left with 
the horses while the rest of us set out cautiously on our up- 
ward path under Cooper’s guidance. It was a steep and ardu- 
ous climb, with our heavy burden. We must not only climb 
half way up the steep hill, but, by a path so narrow that only 
by crowding close to the rocky wall could we find footing, we 
must needs pass round the face of the cliff overlooking the 
lake. It was a dangerous passage. A misstep would have sent 
us hurtling into the dark waters lying a hundred feet below us, 


WE CAPTURE THE CHEST 


309 


and we must needs be steady of head as well as sure of foot, 
lest we turn dizzy. Had we not all been full of the mad daring 
of youth we could not have accomplished it, and none of us was 
sorry when, turning a sharp corner, a difficult feat on that 
narrow path at that dizzy height, we saw a low dark cavity in 
the face of the rock. We had to stoop to enter it, and inside it 
was black as pitch, but groping our way forward we soon came 
to the rear wall of the cave, and kneeling down with as little 
noise as we could manage, we deposited the chest on the ground. 

We felt secure enough in this inaccessible retreat to dare to 
speak above a whisper, and congratulating each other on our 
success we sat down a moment, using the chest as a bench, to 
recover our breath. I was wildly elated and so were Ogden 
and Kemble. Lloyd and Cooper were not quite so sure that 
our difficulties were over; they knew more of the ways of the 
savages than did we. It seemed to me an easy matter to re- 
trace our steps, mount our horses, slip away before the dawn, 
and return for the chest at our leisure. I felt that our mission 
w r as done and well done. 

Remembering that it had taken us much time to make that 
arduous passage to the cave, and that the dawn could not be 
very far away, I permitted only a few minutes for rest before 
I gave the order for the return march. The difficulties of 
our descent were not great, though we still found we needed 
a steady head on the narrow path around the cliff, but in half 
an hour at the most we were close to our camp. We had been 
gone, altogether, an hour and a half or two hours, time enough 
for much to happen. And the worst had happened. 

Observing even greater caution as we approached the camp, 
we were creeping slowly forward when we were startled by the 
weird cry of a screech owl, so close it sounded in our very ears. 

“k signal ! 99 exclaimed Lloyd in a whisper. But the word 
was hardly out of his mouth when each man of us was seized 
from behind, his arms pinioned, and in a trice his pistols and 
sword removed. 

All but Lloyd’s. Two stalwart savages had grappled him, 
one at each arm, but with the exertion of his tremendous 


310 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


strength he flung them to the right and left, dashed away 
through the woods with the unerring instinct of a falcon to 
where he had left Bourbon tethered, and before the two stalwart 
Iroquois had thoroughly recovered consciousness from the heavy 
fall that stunned them for a moment, we heard the clatter of 
Bourbon’s hooves on the rocky beach. 

And dismayed at the sudden capture; not knowing what fate 
awaited us — whether instant death or slow torture or long 
captivity — greater, for a moment, than all other dismay was 
the bitter thought that my big American friend had failed me 
in the hour of need. I had not known him ; only a coward and 
a dastard could have used his great strength to make good his 
own escape and desert his comrades to their fate. 


XXV 


there’s many a slip 

T HE moment our arms were in their possession the savages 
released their hold on us and with a harsh word of com- 
mand, “ en avant ! ” from their leader we were marched, at the 
muzzles of our own pistols, to our camp. 

No word had been spoken by any of us — there had been 
neither time nor opportunity for words — but a thousand wild 
thoughts had flashed through my brain as, no doubt, they 
were flashing through the brains of the others. When the 
mad rush of my bitterness toward Lloyd had, for the moment, 
subsided, my first conscious thought was, “ What will Mademoi- 
selle think when she hears of our fate? Or will she never 
know it ? 99 

But there was no time to dwell on thoughts of Mademoiselle ; 
anxiety for Irving soon drove out every other concern. What 
had happened to him? Was he dead or alive? In two minutes 
I knew, for a two minutes’ march brought us to our camp and 
by the faint moonlight filtering through the heavy foliage we 
saw him seated by the spring where we had eaten our supper, 
a huge savage covering him with a rifle, and by his side, appar- 
ently talking to him, La Force ! 

“ Irving,” I exclaimed, “ how did it happen ? ” and won- 
dered that he did not reply so much as by a word; but in a 
moment I saw why. He was gagged! No doubt in order that 
he might make no outcry to warn us. The necessity for such 
caution being now over I saw La Force give some command 
to the savage guarding Irving, who removed the gag. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Savage,” said Irving gravely to the In- 
dian, who understood not a word he was saying. “ A gag is a 
small, but remarkably uncomfortable instrument of torture; I 

311 


312 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


am glad to have it removed. Also, I suppose you know that 
in this country it is illegal to deprive any man of his freedom 
of speech. I fear, sir, you have broken one of the statutes of 
these great United States, and insulted the majesty of the law, 
represented in my person, Washington Irving, Barrister ! ” 

I was in no mood for jesting myself, but I was glad to see 
that it was still possible for him, and I believe his kindly in- 
tention was to relieve a little the terrible strain he knew I must 
be under, as leader of the expedition, and holding myself re- 
sponsible for the safety of the party. 

I was angered beyond endurance at the sight of La Force, the 
black lashes and white rims of his “ devil-eyes,” as the Hurons 
had called them, plainly visible in the faint moonlight. 

“I suppose you know, Mr. La Force,” I said to him, trying 
to speak calmly, “that in detaining our persons you are com- 
mitting a crime against two great nations, the United States 
and England, and that it is not probable that either nation will 
rest until that crime is punished.” 

“ I have thought of that, Sir Lionel,” he answered coolly, 
“ and I have warned my friends, the Iroquois, of the risks they 
run. But they are greatly incensed at the loss of the treasure 
which I suppose they hoped to share. They say it will be many 
days before your capture is known to the White Father at 
Washington, and by that time they will be beyond the reach of 
the Great Father’s soldiers.” 

Every word he said made me angrier. I did not believe he 
had uttered a word of remonstrance to the Iroquois; on the 
contrary, I believed our capture had been entirely at his in- 
stigation. Even in the heat of my anger, however, I was wiser 
than to tell him so, and at that moment it flashed into my 
mind that Lloyd had made his escape in order to rescue us. 
I do not know why I had not thought of it earlier, and I was 
full of remorse at my unjust bitterness toward him. I thought 
it might be the part of wisdom to let La Force know that 
there was one who was sure to send a rescue party for us. 

“Who I have no doubt will not only free us but avenge 
our capture,” I finished by saying. 



We saw him seated by the spring, a huge savage 
covering him with a rifle 



THERE >S MANY A SLIP 


313 


“ Ah, yon refer to the ‘ Paleface god/ as my Iroquois friends 
call him, I suppose ? ” he asked in his suavest tones, and with 
his glittering smile, plainly visible now that the gray dawn was 
beginning to strengthen the feeble moonlight. 

I was irritated beyond measure but as I started to speak he 
interrupted me: 

“ Your pardon, Sir Lionel; I have been saying to your friend, 
Mr. Irving, that I hope you will tell the Iroquois where you 
have hidden the box before they proceed to torture, for I fear I 
will be unable to restrain them or protect you and your party 
should they be exasperated by your refusal to tell.” 

Irving broke in before I had a chance to reply. I think he 
feared I might be induced by the sound of that word “ tor- 
ture ” to betray the hiding place at once. 

“ And I would have answered Mr. La Force,” he said 
quickly, “if that miserable little gag would have allowed me, 
that it was not for me to decide; that I did not think it was 
for any of us to decide, not even our leader, Sir Lionel ; that it 
ought only to be decided in full council.” 

“ I thank you for that word, Mr. Irving,” I said gravely, and 
I meant my thanks. For at the thought of torture to the frail 
Irving, to the merry Ogden, the courtly Kemble, and the young 
lad Cooper, I had been ready to reveal the secret at once, if 
so I might spare my friends. But I saw Irving was right; 
it was better we should take counsel together. Therefore I 
said to Mr. La Force that I hoped he would arrange with 
his friends, the Iroquois, to allow us to hold a conference, and 
he replied that it might be arranged; he would see what he 
could do. 

All this time each member of our party had been covered by 
either a pistol or a rifle in the hands of an alert savage; the 
slightest suspicious movement on the part of any one of us 
would have meant instant death. Mr. La Force left us for a 
few moments, still so guarded, ostensibly to consult the chiefs 
of the Iroquois. Really I think he had only to express his 
commands to have them executed. The consultation took some 
little time. In fact, I thought that I could discern that for 


314 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


some reason the savages were finding various pretexts for delay. 
Mr. La Force returned finally and said that with some diffi- 
culty he had been able to persuade the chiefs to allow us the 
conference; it should be held here in our own camp, and since 
the Iroquois understood at most a scattered word of English, the 
guard would remain. 

There was but one voice in our council: “It was only a 
ruse of La Force’s ! ” “ The savages were too thoroughly in 
subjection to dare such a thing ! ” “ Twenty-five years ago it 

might have been possible, but now they knew they would have 
the whole great nation down upon them at once, and their 
tribe would be annihilated.” “ Most of all, La Force knew we 
could not disappear without immediate investigation, since all 
New York knew whither we were bound and why.” 

A great weight was lifted from my heart — I had not wanted 
to surrender our dearly-won booty so tamely, but the burden 
of the suffering, perhaps the lives of my friends, had been 
greater than I could bear. Now we decided unanimously that 
I should tell La Force that we refused to reveal the hiding 
place of the chest, but we also agreed that should he proceed, 
or the savages under his direction, to torture us, we would 
make a virtue of necessity and give it up. 

There was a little flicker of the eyelash when I told La Force 
our decision that I could not easily interpret. I had seen it 
before, at critical moments, but whether it meant satisfaction 
or disappointment I could not be sure. Aside from that flicker 
his face was impassive. 

“ Very well, Sir Lionel,” he said gravely, “ I shall do my 
best to protect you from the ingenious tortures of the savages, 
but I cannot promise that I will be successful. They will be 
very greatly incensed when I convey to them your decision, 
and I cannot answer for their manner of taking it. I think for 
the present I shall defer telling them. It would have been 
desirable, of course, that we should have found the chest before 
setting out on our journey, but we shall not give up hope of 
your being persuaded to tell us later, and a party of warriors 


THERE ’S MANY A SLIP 


315 


can always be sent back after it. We have only been delaying 
for your decision to begin our march; breakfast is awaiting 
you at the Iroquois camp and, if you please, we will hasten 
thither.” 

And in fact whereas, up to this time, there had seemed to be 
a policy of delay, now all was hurry and bustle. In our con- 
ference we had wondered what would be done with us when 
our refusal was announced (for we declined to believe in the 
torture) ; would they carry us off with them or leave us behind? 
And almost more we wondered what would become of our 
horses. It would break my heart to lose Saladin, not to return 
him safe and sound to his owners, nor did I believe any savage 
would be able to ride him. We were soon to have an answer to 
our questions. 

“ You have two horses, Sir Lionel,” Mr. La Force continued 
in his soft tones, “ which the Indians dare not touch. Every time 
anyone has come near your horse it has so reared, pawed and 
snorted, and so viciously flung out its heels that I think my 
friends believe it possessed of devils. They beg, therefore, 
that you will, for the present at least, ride him yourself. 
There is also a* little Indian pony that is not much better. 
Twice has the bravest Indian warrior mounted him only to be 
flung over his head. I fear my friends are not skilled in horse- 
manship and I think they would be quite willing that the owner 
of the Indian pony should ride it also. Your other horses they 
have found tamer and some of the chiefs have appropriated 
them to themselves.” 

All of this was said with a sardonic smile that drove me 
wild. Oh, for my sword in my hand and a clear field to try 
issues with La Force at the sword’s point! So Cooper and I 
were to ride, and Irving, Ogden, and Kemble were to go afoot. 
Well the villain knew this would be harder for me to bear than 
to go afoot myself and see my friends ride. We were to begin 
our march at once, La Force had said. How was the frail 
Irving to endure it ? Ogden and Kemble might, but I was quite 
sure Irving would fall by the way. Nor could I see any help 


316 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


for it, for even should the Indians give their permission to the 
exchange I was very sure Saladin would not allow Irving on 
his back. 

“ Do you hear, J onathan ? " I called to him, where he sat a 
few yards away. “ Your horse has been taken by one of the 
chiefs. Will you ride Saladin ? " 

“Will I ride his Satanic Majesty?" Irving answered, ap- 
parently not a whit dismayed by the tidings. “No, I thank 
you. I believe I still have some regard left for life and limb." 

I think he read my distress in my face, for he added quickly 
and more seriously than I had often heard him speak : 

“Do not worry about me, Sir Lionel. You will find I am 
as tough as a pine knot. I have not the least doubt in the 
world that I can out-walk any two Indians." * 

Our camp was a little distance further south than the Iro- 
quois camp and between it and the place where we had found 
the wagon. As, still under guard, we started for our horses 
the wagon passed us going toward the camp drawn by its one 
black and one white horse. What seemed a little strange to 
me, was that it was piled high with the branches of trees, but 
knowing that the Indians used these for making their huts, 
I supposed that since the wagon was no longer used to convey 
the chest, they were making use of it to carry the branches from 
one camp to another and so save the trouble of cutting them 
each night. 

As I said, all now was hurry and bustle. But scant time 
was allowed for breakfast, and the sun was not yet risen when 
we were well on the march. I had begged La Force to permit 
my three friends to ride in the wagon, since without that 
heavy chest the burden for the horses would be light, but this 
he absolutely refused, and I had the pain of feeling myself at 
ease on my beautiful Saladin and Ogden, Irving, and Kemble 
trudging wearily along afoot. 

Not that one would guess from the manner of either of them 
that there was anything painful or enforced or uncomfortable 
about this walk they were taking through the glorious October 
weather, a frosty tang in the air that set the blood aleaping in 


THERE ’S MANY A SLIP 


317 


the veins, and hills and lake and forest a glorious blaze of 
color. When, as occasionally happened, they came within hail- 
ing distance of either* Cooper or me, they saluted us with 
all manner of good-natured jibes and friendly scoffing. We 
were everyone of us closely guarded, but our guards spoke 
and understood no English and so, sometimes, under cover of 
scoffing, we were able to interchange small items of information 
or propose to each other plans of escape that were only half in 
jest. 

The three came up with us about noon, where on the banks 
of a small stream we had halted to let our horses drink. It 
seemed to me that Irving looked pale and worn with his long 
morning’s tramp, and I puzzled my brains in vain to find some 
way of securing a ride for him. 

“ Irving,” I said, “as soon as I get hold of La Force — he 
is keeping out of our way purposely, I believe — I am going to 
get permission for you to ride Saladin. I would make the 
change now, but at the slightest movement of the kind on the 
part of either of us we would each have a bullet through us.” 

“ Not for worlds ! ” he exclaimed in pretended horror. “ You 
know my opinion of Saladin.” 

“ But I shall walk at his head and keep him quiet with my 
voice.” 

“ Oh, don’t worry, Green,” — one would have thought from 
his tone and manner he was scornfully deriding me, but that 
was for the benefit of our guards — “ you have me to thank for 
keeping the whole line of march back this morning, and they 
will be delayed, I promise you, even more this afternoon. At 
this rate Lloyd and his rescuing party can easily overtake us.” 

I had noticed our slow progress and our frequent stoppings 
with delight, but I had no idea that Irving was at the bottom 
of it. 

“ How have you managed it ? ” I asked wonderingly. 

“ I ’ll tell you some other time,” he answered, laughing at 
my look of bewilderment. “ Look here, Green, what will you 
say if before night I am luxuriously riding in that wagon 
yonder.” 


318 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


“ Say ! ” I echoed, “ That you are either devil or angel, and 
sometimes I think you are both ! ” 

“ You ’re right, Green ; he ’s both/’ Ogden shouted, “ but I ’ll 
tell you what, if he’s not riding in that wagon before night, 
he ’ll be riding on my shoulders — this is entirely too much for 
the little fellow.” 

At that Irving grew furiously angry, or pretended to. He 
never liked to be considered a weakling, and now he declared he 
could walk as far as any of us and feel it no more; that if he 
rode in the wagon it would be for the fun of outwitting La 
Force, and not because he needed to. 

Whereupon our guards gave us to understand it was time to 
be moving on, and I saw no more of either Ogden, Irving, or 
Kemble until the middle of the afternoon, for, try as I might, 
I could not keep Saladin down to the slow pace of the motley 
throng of squaws, children, burden-bearers and decrepit old 
men; and my guards — I had two of them — were kept on a 
dog trot to keep up with his prancing and dancing walk, the 
slowest pace he knew how to take. 

But in the middle of the afternoon my guards signaled to 
me to halt my spirited horse, both that they might get a little 
rest and that the main line might catch up with us. We were 
some distance ahead of the motley throng, in the very van of 
which was the wagon drawn by the black horse and the white 
one. To my amazement as the wagon came abreast of us, there 
lay Irving comfortably at ease on the branches, looking pale, I 
thought, but giving me a triumphant wink as the wagon stopped 
beside me. 

“Well?” I asked. 

“I stepped on a loose stone and sprained my ankle,” he 
answered soberly. “ It was impossible for me to walk a step, 
and two of my Iroquois friends carried me for a quarter of a 
mile. I ’m not very heavy, fortunately, but a dead weight of a 
hundred and fifteen pounds sometimes seems heavier than a 
live one of a hundred and fifty, and I was a very dead weight. 
They were glad to put me in the wagon as soon as they could.” 

“ Has your ankle been dressed ? ” I asked as soberly as he. 


THERE >S MANY A SLIP 


319 


“Yes, Ogden dressed it; he *s quite a skillful surgeon. I 
should n’t wonder if the swelling would be all gone by to-night 
or to-morrow.” 

Of course I supposed he was shamming, but I could not be 
quite sure of it and I felt some concern. One thing I noticed, 
that since Irving rode in the wagon we made much better 
progress. There were no more delays and stoppages and I 
think by the time night fell and we were ready for camp, we 
must have made fully twenty or thirty miles. It was won- 
derful that the little children could walk so far, but I noticed 
the mothers often carrying them pick-a-back (never the fathers) 
and so resting their tired little legs. How the women bore 
it was still more incomprehensible to me, for they carried 
all the camp equipage, except what was carried in the wagon, 
besides their papooses and younger children. The men carried 
nothing but their rifles, with a glittering tomahawk and scalp- 
ing-knife in the belt. 

Our way had been through a beautiful country and much 
of it apparently well settled, though as far as was possible we 
kept in the woods. Cooper said it was evident from our direc- 
tion that we were making straight for Canada by way of the 
Adirondack forests and mountains. So beautiful was the coun- 
try through which we rode I could have enjoyed it vastly had 
it been a pleasure jaunt we were taking, but as it was, with 
the uncertainty of our fate before us, and the certainty, to my 
mind, that Irving never could endure the long tramp to Can- 
ada (nor did I believe he could succeed in keeping up his ruse 
of a sprained ankle for any great length of time) it was a 
gloomy ride indeed, and I welcomed the approach of the camp- 
ing hour, feeling that, at least for a few hours, we would not 
be hastening farther and farther from all hopes of succor. 
Even if Lloyd should succeed in organizing a party of rescue, I 
had no hope of his accomplishing this for some days, and if 
we made as good progress every day as we had made the first day 
of our march, we might easily be over the Canadian border and 
beyond the hope of rescue before he could reach us. 

What happened that first night still seems to me as in- 


320 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


credible, as supernatural, almost, as it seemed to me then* 
Lying on the bare ground, a blanket for our bed, our saddle* 
bags for pillows, the leafy canopy of the forest for our tent, 
in a circle about us a double row of guards sleeping on their 
rifles, knives and tomahawks ready to their hands, and never 
a sword or a pistol on any one of the five of us, I would have 
thought only an angel from heaven could have rescued us. 
And very nearly an angel from heaven has Lloyd always seemed 
to me since. 

“ Sir Lionel,” whispered Cooper, close in my ear, “ if we 
are to make any attempt at escape to-night is our best chance.” 
“ Why do you think so ? ” I whispered back. 

“ I overheard a conference between La Force and the chiefs. 
To-morrow all the younger braves are to hurry forward with 
the prisoners to the Canadian line, leaving the women and 
children to the care of a few old warriors. Moreover, since 
they believe it is too soon to fear any pursuit, and the guards 
are to have a hard march to-morrow, they are to be allowed to 
sleep on their arms to-night. Shall we attempt an escape ? ” 

“ How do they dare permit them to sleep on their arms ? ” 

“ The Iroquois brave is a light sleeper when he is on the 
war path; the slightest sound will rouse him, and his instruc- 
tions are to shoot or tomahawk the first prisoner who makes a 
suspicious movement.” 

Conveying Cooper’s information to each of the five as we lay 
on the ground together, in low murmurs we discussed the ad- 
visability of attempting the escape, since on the morrow we 
were to be hurried out of reach of our friends. If we had had 
our pistols or our swords we would have ventured it, but after 
a long and anxious discussion we gave it up as too hazardous, 
since we were to be shot at the first suspicious movement. 

The matter once decided we rolled ourselves in our blankets 
and I, for one, was deep in slumber in a moment. I slept 
heavily and for how long I had no means of judging, when I 
was roused by a hand over my mouth and a muffled voice in my 
ear : “ Come ! Be quick ! Not a sound ! ” 

I did not recognize the voice and I was not sure whether 


THERE ’S MANY A SLIP 


321 


it was a summons to instant execution or a friendly call to 
flight, but I did not hesitate a moment. My heart pounding 
in my throat I was on my feet before my eyes were well open. 

u Stand where you are a moment,” the voice muttered in 
my ear, and rigid as one of the pines with which the hills about 
us were covered I stood and hardly dared to breathe. 

I think I had never seen a night so dark. Whether the 
moon had not yet risen, or whether it was obscured by clouds, 
I could not tell, but not a ray of light from any source pene- 
trated the leafy canopy above us. I thought I could detect 
muffled and mysterious sounds all about me, but they were so 
slight and so uncertain I could not be sure but they were the 
creation of my excited fancy. In a moment my left hand was 
seized and put into the right of a third person — I believed 
I recognized Irving’s slender palm and clinging fingers — 
and with a whispered, “ Hold fast to him ! ” my free right hand 
was once more grasped by this mysterious owner of the voice 
and I was drawn gently and silently forward, pulling Irving, 
and I believed, in a linked chain, Ogden, Kemble and Cooper 
after me. If there were six of us in that line, surely never did 
six men tread so silently before. And where were our guards? 
We did not stumble over them, as I should have supposed we 
would in the dark, and there was no sound of life from any of 
them. 

It seemed a long time to me that we were thus stealthily 
creeping through the blackness, with infinite slowness and with 
frequent stoppings, as if some one in the lead halted often to 
make sure of his way. Expecting every moment that the camp 
would be aroused and the savages upon us, I would have liked 
to move more rapidly. I confess there was not a step of the 
way that I did not feel a bullet between my shoulders or a 
tomahawk cleaving my skull. It seemed to me it would have 
been wiser to run, silently as possible, but at top speed, in any 
direction away from the camp, and not to stop running until we 
felt ourselves at a safe distance where we might lie in hiding 
until the morning. 

But the one in command had other plans and I was not sorry 

21 


322 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


when I suddenly found myself descending into the little hollow 
or glade where we had tethered our horses. I had not for a 
moment supposed that we could take them with us; it was risk 
enough to get ourselves off alive. Now as I felt Saladin’s 
warm breath in my face, and his soft nose rubbing my cheek 
in response to my quiet word to him, it seemed to me that all 
our troubles were over. To be sure, we had left our saddles 
behind us, but the bridles were hanging on a near-by limb, and 
in a moment I had secured them and handed one to Cooper. 

“We could find but two horses,” the mysterious voice whis* 
pered in my ear. “ Where are the others ? ” 

“ On the other side of the camp with the wagon horses,” I 
answered. “ Ogden shall ride with me and Irving with Cooper. 
Can you take Kemble ? ” 

There was a muttered response of “All right” and it was 
but the work of a moment to adjust our bridles and mount as 
I had suggested. And now, my eyes having grown more 
accustomed to the light, or the moon beginning to rise, I saw 
that there were three other horsemen besides ourselves silently 
leading the way out of the little glade into the woodland road 
by which we had reached our camp; two were Huron braves 
and one, as I had been very sure from the first, was Lloyd on 
Bourbon. 

Silently, without a word, and slowly, that our horses might 
make no noise, we rode for more than a mile, and it was the 
most irksome ride, the most interminable mile, that I have 
ever ridden. Suddenly, coming upon an open bit of road, those 
in the lead put spurs to their horses, and Saladin and Bourbon 
and Natty Bumpo — for so Cooper called his little Indian pony 
after the old trapper he had loved as a lad — needed no spurs 
as they dashed madly after them. 

Oh, that glorious ride through the cool night air tingling 
with frost! Free! Neither fear of torture nor sudden bullet, 
nor gleaming tomahawk! I did not realize how despair had 
settled down upon me like a leaden pall, until I felt the keen ela- 
tion of the lifted load, the exquisite joy of life and hope renewed. 
The ringing of hoofs on the rocky road was the sweetest 


THERE’S MANY A SLIP 


323 


music that had ever ravished my ears. Not a word was spoken 
through that mad ride, nor did we draw rein until we had put 
nearly half the distance back to the Huron camp between us and 
the Iroquois. Then we pulled up to breathe our horses, though 
neither Bourbon nor Saladin seemed to have felt their mad 
pace or their double burden. 

Not until, at a signal from the leader, we had drawn up by 
the roadside had I exchanged a word with Lloyd. Then he 
rode up by my side and no brother’s grasp of my hand could 
have been closer or warmer. 

“ But how did you manage it? ” I asked, and we gathered 
close around him to hear his story, after we had expressed our 
thanks to the two Huron braves, who stood silently by utter- 
ing an occasional “ Ugh ! 99 of appreciation as Lloyd told his 
tale. 

“ If it had not been for these young braves I could never 
have managed it,” he began. “ My first thought was to get 
a company of soldiers from the nearest post and in a pitched 
battle with the Iroquois recapture you. But the Hurons as- 
sured me that the nearest post was so distant that the Iroquois 
would be over the border before we could possibly overtake them. 
Then I asked if their tribe would be willing to go on the war- 
path, but they were very sure their chief would never listen 
to it; the Hurons had no quarrel with the Iroquois just now; 
the wampum belt was stretched between the tribes. But they 
said they could manage to get you off. They had followed the 
Iroquois trail for a little distance in the early morning and 
they had seen who were guarding the prisoners. Two of them 
were well known to the young Hurons — they had often smoked 
the pipe of peace together, and they believed that they could 
come upon them in the night and, by means of bribes, persuade 
them to allow their prisoners to escape. It was not likely they 
had any ill feeling toward the young Palefaces, only the ‘ Devil- 
eyes 9 had probably offered them gold. They were sure that 
a little gold, a little firewater and a little tobacco would set the 
prisoners free. 

“ So I rode back to Cooperstown, secured two horses for the 


324 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION . 


Huron braves (and by the way, Cooper, I said not a word to 
your family, only left a note to be delivered in three days to 
your father if we were not heard from by that time), and be- 
sides the horses I secured three big flasks of whisky, a lot of 
tobacco, and filled my pockets with gold coins by changing some 
notes at a little country store. You made very slow progress, 
for you had many hours the start of us, and we came up with 
you before sunset, or so nearly, we had to keep back out of 
your sight in the woods.” 

“ That was Irving,” I interrupted. “ He kept back the 
march, under one pretext and another, all day long. His last 
ruse was a sprained ankle. By the way, how is your ankle, 
Irving? ” 

“Fine, thank you. Never better,” he answered. 

“We have Irving to thank, then,” said Lloyd; “for by 
overtaking you so early, my two Hurons were able, as soon as 
it was dark, to spy out the land in their noiseless fashion. They 
discovered exactly where you lay, and where your horses were 
tethered, and had bribed your guards to keep quiet when they 
should come for you. I have no doubt the guards will be found 
out and punished, but at present they are probably gloriously 
happy in secretly passing the fire-water from one to the other, 
jingling their gold coins and fingering their tobacco. It was 
necessary to wait until the camp was well asleep before we 
came for you, and so it was nearly midnight when I roused 
you.” 

“ Lloyd,” I said earnestly, “ I can never be sufficiently thank- 
ful that you were with us on this march. I would never have 
known how to carry through such an enterprise as you have 
done it.” 

“ It does seem rather providential that one of us was 
able to escape,” he answered modestly, “ but anyone else would 
have done as well as I ; it is to the brave Hurons the credit be- 
longs.” 

Whereupon we thanked the young Hurons again, and each 
of us left some gold coins in the hand we grasped in friendship ; 
and a battered old moon being by this time well up over the 


THERE >8 MANY A SLIP 


325 


crest of the hills, we could plainly see the glitter in their eyes, 
which I think is an Indian’s nearest approach to a smile. 

We bade the Hurons good-by as we drew near their camp, 
and since they had no longer any need of their horses, they 
were handed over to Ogden and Kemble, and I took Irving up 
with me to relieve the little pony, and the day brightening 
rapidly to dawn and sunrise, we rode on to Cooperstown. It 
proved to be a little village, beautiful for situation, nestling 
among high hills at the foot of the lake. The village itself 
was principally built on both sides of a broad street running 
back from the lake to a lofty fir-crowned hill, many of the 
houses making some pretense to architectural beauty, many of 
them, of course, as is bound to be in so new a village, not 
twenty years old, rude and plain and ugly. 

At the head of the street, just below the dark-browed hill, 
was the home of Cooper. It was somewhat after the style of 
a manor-house in my own country, of generous dimensions and 
of many styles of architecture. A rustic bridge, crossing a 
sparkling mountain stream, gave entrance to the grounds 
where stately trees, the elm, the maple, and the poplar (of 
which I had seen so many in New York and which I under- 
stood had lately been imported into the country) were scattered 
over the wide lawns, and with their scarlet and gold against 
the dark background of the fir-clad hill made a brilliant setting 
for the mansion. We had all the cordial welcome and generous 
entertainment Cooper had led us to expect, and since we had 
been now for two nights without sleep, with many arduous 
days and nights preceding, we were glad to avail ourselves of 
the pressing invitation to remain and rest ourselves and our 
horses. Indeed, had we not been so eager to secure our treasure- 
chest and bear it back in triumph to Mayor Livingston, we 
could have enjoyed much longer the hospitality so cordially 
urged upon us and that we found so delightful. 

But we were eager to finish the work we felt was so well 
begun, and early the next morning, after a long night of deep 
and refreshing slumber, with a wagon drawn by two stout 
horses, and carrying four men to handle the chest for us, we 


326 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


six, men and horses refreshed in body and spirit, started gayly 
np the lake. We took a road this time on the eastern side and 
back among the hills, since the cliffs rose straight from the 
waters on this eastern shore, and as we rode we had much to 
say of our experiences of the last few days. 

“Well, Sir Lionel,” Kemble asked, “has the new world 
proved what you expected of it ? Is it exciting enough ? ” 

“More so than I expected,” I answered, “but I believe I 
have enjoyed the excitement, now it is all over.” 

“ I ’ll tell you, Green,” said Ogden, “ I ’m going to write 
your father a certificate when I get back to New York, that 
the masterly manner in which you have conducted this expedi- 
tion, restoring the city’s money to its coffers and bringing back 
your company in safety, qualifies you for the command of any 
expedition against Bonaparte.” 

“ Wait till the money is safe in the city’s coffers,” I answered 
laughingly. “ ‘ There ’s many a slip,’ you know.” 

“Yes,” said Irving soberly, “and I want to tell you some- 
thing, Sir Lionel, that has been haunting me ever since I 
sprained my ankle and rode in the wagon.” 

“ Speak on, J onathan,” I encouraged him, expecting nothing 
more than one of his usual jests. 

“ I can’t get rid of the impression,” he went on, still soberly, 
“ that the chest was in that wagon. Certainly when the wagon 
jolted over the stones it jolted as if it was loaded with some- 
thing much heavier than light branches, and I almost imagined 
I could feel the outlines of the chest beneath the boughs as I 
lay on them.” 

We all jeered at his suspicions, but I believe I was not the 
only one who felt a little uneasiness, and I was glad when we 
came to our old camp and leaving the horses with Kemble, 
Ogden, Irving and Cooper, Lloyd and I and the four men started 
on our climb up to Natty Bumpo’s cave. 

The sun was shining brilliantly, but the cave lay in shadow. 
As it came in view we all peered into it eagerly, but we could 
see nothing. A sort of vague fear held us back for a moment 
from entering, then I stepped forward. 


THEEE >S MANY A SLIP 


327 


“ Come on,” I said to Lloyd, and stooping down, side by 
side, we two passed under the low entrance arch. We were 
blinded for a moment by coming into the dark from the bril- 
liant sunshine, and we could see nothing, but with extended 
hands we groped our way to the back of the cave where we had 
left the chest. 

“ Lloyd,” I said, and I almost pitied the sound of my own 
voice, it was so dull and lifeless, like one lost in despair, “ Lloyd, 
it is all to do over again ! This is what their delay in starting 
meant. They waited to get the chest back in their wagon and 
covered with branches, before they were ready to start.” 

“And La Force watched us toiling up the hill with that 
heavy chest and was laughing at us all the time,” said Lloyd, 
and his voice was the restrained voice of a very angry man 
striving to keep calm. 

It was long years after, on the field of Waterloo, that I 
came face to face with La Force again, for the last time. But 
his face was upturned to the stars, and there was no light in the 
white-rimmed, black-lashed eyes. He had died for his emperor, 
and gallantly, for he lay in that dreadful trench, the sunken 
road of Obain on Mount St. Jean, where the flower of the Old 
Guard laid down their lives. 

“ He was no coward,” I murmured to myself. “ Multum 
peccavit; requiescat in pace! And may God have mercy on his 
soul!” 


XXVI 


BEHIND A CLOSED DOOR 

I HAD no thought, at first, but that I would at once get to- 
gether a company of men, follow the Iroquois and re- 
capture the treasure. And I think this time I would have had 
no scruples about La Force. With the greatest pleasure in life 
I would carry him back to occupy my cell in the Bridewell, and 
I did not believe even Miss Desloge would blame me for my 
lack of mercy. 

But I was dissuaded from my purpose by the other five. The 
Iroquois had the start of us by the day and night we had spent 
at Cooper’s house, and by our own night’s flight in the opposite 
direction, and it was not probable that they would be in any 
the less haste to hurry the treasure-chest over the border, now 
that they knew we must have discovered it was in their posses- 
sion. Moreover, there was no way of getting together a com- 
pany of men fit to attack so warlike a tribe as the Iroquois. 
If a military post had been within reach that would furnish 
us trained soldiers, it would be worth while undertaking it ; but 
as it was, every one of my friends counseled giving up the 
treasure for lost. It was hard to bring my mind to giving it 
up finally, and I am afraid my reluctance was as much mortifi- 
cation at the thought that I had been outwitted by La Force 
as sorrow on Mayor Livingston’s account. 

We decided not to return through the Shawangunk Moun- 
tains, but by the Mohawk Valley to Albany and so down the 
Hudson. Part of our course would be on the trail of the 
Iroquois and I still had some lingering hopes that we might 
overtake them and by some lucky chance get possession once 
more of the chest. I was eager to be on our way, therefore, 
and sending back the four men with the wagon, we continued 

328 


BEHIND A CLOSED DOOR 


329 


on our northward course, diverging somewhat to the east, and 
by noon we had reached Cherry Valley, a picturesque little 
village which Lloyd said had been the scene of one of the 
terrible Indian massacres during the war of the Revolution. 
Lloyd also told us that it was in the woods just back of this 
village that he and his Hurons had rescued us from the Iro- 
quois. If we had covered as much distance in the few morn- 
ing hours as it had taken the Iroquois all day to march, I had 
good hopes of overtaking them — though what we six men 
could do against the whole tribe I was not ready to decide — 
and so, allowing the scantiest time for refreshment of man 
and beast, I gave the order for the forward march. 

By night we had reached the beautiful Mohawk river and 
spent the night at an inn in a little village on its bank. Every- 
where along our route we inquired for the Iroquois. They had 
avoided the settlements, as was natural, but always we came 
upon some farmer lad, or village urchin, who had been playing 
truant from school, and had watched from a safe distance the 
passing of the Indians. We soon learned, also, that they had 
followed the plan Cooper had overheard them discussing — the 
young warriors, with a wagon and horses, were in advance, 
the women, children and old men in the rear — and the first 
party was six hours in advance by the time they had reached 
the forests back of Canajoharie, the village where we spent our 
first night. 

We were in the saddle next morning at the earliest dawn, 
following the river eastward, as far as Amsterdam, a quaint 
little Dutch village, where we spent the night and where we 
learned the braves with the treasure-chest were fifteen hours in 
advance of the women and children when they crossed the 
river at this point; they were moving with incredible speed 
for men on foot. 

We followed them across the river the next morning before 
daylight and pushing on as rapidly as we dared, out of con- 
sideration for our hard-worked horses, we reached Saratoga 
Springs before night. There we were compelled to give up the 
pursuit. We had gained a little on them, but it was fully thirty 


330 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


hours since the advance party had passed through the Saratoga 
forests and they were now well in the network of mountains 
and lakes to the north, where no party of white men could 
follow them with safety, since there were such opportunities 
for ambuscade — a method of warfare the Indians excel in — 
and such necessity of navigation and portage, with no chance 
of securing food for man or beast, as would make the diffi- 
culties insurmountable for a party like ours entirely unequipped 
for such a journey. 

Since we were compelled to relinquish the idea of pursuit 
there was no longer any reason for hurry and we settled down 
for a day's rest in the pretty little resort. Irving told me that 
it was as gay, in its way, as Bath or Tunbridge Wells in the 
season, that the Hamiltons, the DeLanceys, the Van Bensselaers, 
the Schuyler s, the Livingstons, all the elite of New York and 
the Hudson, came there each season to drink the waters for a 
few weeks. It seemed to me so in the heart of the wilderness, 
for we had ridden through many miles of forest to reach it, 
that I could hardly credit his tale, yet after we had rested a 
day and drunk the nauseous waters from every well, and walked 
out in the late afternoon to view the battle-ground and the 
ruins of General Schuyler's fine villa, burned by Burgoyne, 
and spent a second night in such slumber as one only knows in 
these high altitudes and in an air fragrant with balsam and 
fir, I found we were not so far in the wilderness as I supposed. 
A short day's ride brought us to Albany, and meeting General 
Schuyler on the streets he haled us off to his hospitable house, 
as if it were a matter of course that he should entertain Kem- 
ble and Ogden, who were old acquaintances, and any friends 
of theirs they might happen to have with them. 

When he found I was the “ criminal " in the Livingston case, 
a full account of which he had had from the letters of his 
daughter, Mrs. Hamilton, and from the New York papers, he 
was full of the liveliest interest in the case, and in our expedi- 
tion in pursuit of La Force. He would have sent us down 
the river in his sloop, if we would have let him, as much, I 
believe, to prove his indignation against La Force as his friend- 


BEHIND A CLOSED DOOE 


331 


liness for us. Since he could do nothing more for us than 
give us supper and breakfast and a night’s lodging, he did it 
with a courtliness that I liked exceedingly. If the fine old 
soldier had been a great duke in my own land, he could not 
have worn a grander manner nor shown us a more princely 
hospitality. 

It was late in the afternoon, just two weeks as I said, from 
the day we left New York when we rode up under the Clermont 
maples. It was Kemble who insisted we should stop there; 
I think I would rather not, since I was not coming back a 
conquering hero, but an outwitted simpleton — or so I called 
myself. Neither was I at all sure that the family we had left 
in New York had returned to Clermont. But Kemble insisted 
it would do no harm to stop and find out. If they were not 
there we could ride back to the thriving little city of Hudson 
and spend the night, but if they were at home they would be 
most anxious to know the result of our expedition and had a 
right to the first news. 

The day was soft and warm, like a day in late summer, with 
a purple haze veiling the distant hills. Irving called it an 
Indian summer day, though Indian summer was not due, he 
said, until November. It was nothing remarkable, therefore, 
since the day was so fine, that Miss Livingston and her uncle 
and Miss Desloge should be seated on the broad veranda over- 
looking the river, and the distant Catskills. Yet as I caught 
sight of them my heart pounded like a trip-hammer, as if no 
sight in the world could have been more sudden or unexpected. 
Moreover, I felt myself in no fit trim to be presented to ladies. 
Up in that guest chamber on the second landing, that had been 
mine before I went down to New York on my fatal visit, I 
had left at least two suits, one of black satin and one of fine 
blue broadcloth, and a whole drawer full of fresh linen; if I 
could only slip in by some back way and rearray myself before 
I met the ladies ! But there was no chance for it ; I must ride 
boldly forward with the others, who seemed to pay no thought 
to their travel-stained appearance. 

When we first came in sight of the group on the veranda 


332 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


they were so absorbed in a letter Miss Livingston was reading 
alond that none of the three noticed us for a full minute. It 
was Miss Desloge who looked up first, and as she recognized us 
she sprang to her feet with her hands clasped tightly to her 
breast. I was not sure whether her excitement was caused by 
joy at our return in safety, or by fear of the tidings of La 
Force we might be bringing. The other two saw us almost as 
soon as Miss Desloge and welcomed us with waving hands and 
joyous shouts; they evidently felt none of the strain under 
which Miss Desloge seemed to be laboring. Yet she had re- 
covered control of herself by the time we rode up to the steps, 
and had a pretty word of welcome for each one of us, which 
if not so heartily or so noisily cordial as Miss Livingston's I 
hoped was as sincere. 

“ Did you get the money ? " was Miss Livingston's first word 
after the welcomes were over, and almost in the same breath 
Mayor Livingston asked: 

“ Where is La Force ? " 

“ Sir Lionel is captain ; ask him," said Irving. 

“We have come back empty-handed, Mayor Livingston," I 
said, but it cost me an effort to keep a firm upper lip, and no 
effort could keep back the telltale color. “ It is a long story," 
I added quickly, seeing that Mr. Livingston was on the point 
of saying something sympathetic. “ Mr. Irving is a better 
story-teller than I ; I will let him tell it." 

“Yes, let me tell it, do," said Irving, with an eagerness I 
understood later. But Miss Livingston interrupted: 

“ It 's almost dinner time, Uncle Edward," she said, 
“ would n't it be better to defer the recital till then ? And in 
the meantime can’t you furnish these young gentlemen with 
some dinner toilets ? " 

Whereupon the mayor carried us off to our rooms and left us 
to make ourselves fresh and comfortable in such garments as 
his wardrobe and mine afforded. Ogden, Cooper and Kemble 
managed very well in the mayor's clothes. Irving, being just 
of my size, donned my blue broadcloth with a buff waistcoat, 
while I got into my black satins. I was rather glad Irving 


BEHIND A CLOSED DOOR 


333 


chose the blue, for I had always liked my black satins, and 
I was contemplating myself in the mirror with some satis- 
faction, hoping I might look well to Mademoiselle, when Ogden 
spoiled it all. He also had been admiring himself in the mirror 
when turning away he caught sight of me. 

“Ye gods, what a picture!” he ejaculated. “Black satin 
coat and small clothes ! white satin waistcoat, white silk stock- 
ings ! Cluny lace ruffles and tie ! chestnut curls and shining 
gray eyes ! Oh, for a Kneller or Sir J oshua ! Gentlemen, 
there ’s no chance for the rest of us ! ” 

And there was no stopping his chaffing until I threatened to 
tear off my black satins, jump into my riding breeches and 
give him the thrashing of his life. He saw I was in earnest 
and Ogden was too good-natured to want to make anyone really 
angry, so he let up with an apology and a parting shot : 

“ I meant what I said, you know ; you are as handsome as a 
picture.” 

There had been some difficulty in finding anything big 
enough for Lloyd to wear, but he finally squeezed into an old 
court suit of Mr. Robert Livingston’s, very gorgeous indeed if 
it had only fitted him. But nothing could ever make that giant 
look ridiculous, and with wrist ruffles half way to his elbows, 
his waist line a good inch too high, and every shoulder seam 
starting with the strain on it, the white satin turned to deep 
ivory with age, and the glittering gold lace much tarnished, he 
still looked like a Greek god, and I was sure neither Miss Liv- 
ingston nor Mademoiselle would have a glance for anyone else 
when he was by. 

We had spent a good hour over our toilets, scrubbing and 
brushing, and those of us who had clothes to fit helping to 
cover up the deficiencies of those who did not, so that the sun 
had set as we came down the broad staircase together, three 
abreast, and found the ladies and Mr. Livingston waiting for 
us in the great hall brilliantly lighted with wax tapers. The 
day had been warm, but the evening was turning cool, and a 
fresh fire was leaping and blazing in the wide chimney, while 
through glass doors we saw the table ready set for dinner in the 


334 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


famous orangery. The ladies had made dinner toilets also. I 
am not sure that they had spent as much time on them as we 
men had spent, but one was dazzling in rich brocade and spark- 
ling diamonds and flashing black eyes and glossy curls of the 
hue of the raven’s wing, and the other was bewitching in pale 
rose and silver, the creamy white of her skin just tinted with 
the faintest rose, her wonderful hair lying in soft tendrils on 
the white brow and clustering in rich curls about the snowy 
throat, and the glorious eyes glowing with excitement. 

Miss Livingston made us a stately courtesy as we drew up 
in a semicircle before her. 

“Your servant, my lords — your grandeur overpowers me. 
Would that I had six fair dames to properly entertain six 
knights of such high degree.” And then sharply to Miss Des- 
loge, before any one of us had time to respond, “ See Made- 
moiselle, that you do your best to make yourself charming to 
these gentlemen. Sir Lionel, you and your friend shall take 
me out to dinner, Mr. Irving and Mr. Cooper may look after 
Miss Desloge, and Mr. Ogden and Mr. Kemble shall play staff 
officers to the mayor.” 

Neither Kemble nor I was pleased with this arrangement, nor 
am I sure that anyone was greatly delighted except Cooper and 
Irving, who sprang with alacrity to offer each an arm to Made- 
moiselle. I had hoped I might sit beside her and perhaps have 
an occasional word with her that no other ear should hear, but 
very likely there would have been no chance for that even had 
I been beside her, for we were hardly well seated before Mayor 
Livingston said, “ And now, Irving, for your tale,” and there 
was no other topic of conversation through the dinner; all of us 
joining in at times to correct or enlarge on some point, and 
Mayor Livingston and the ladies asking innumerable ques- 
tions. 

And after all it was better to be opposite Mademoiselle than 
beside her through Irving’s tale; every swift change of emotion 
was mirrored in her face as he waxed eloquent in the telling. 
I thought he made our adventures a little more thrilling than 
they really were; our escapades more hairbreadth, and, what 


BEHIND A CLOSED DOOR 


335 


pleased me even less, he made me the hero of every specially 
daring venture, the skillful contriver of every successful plan, 
the wise councilor in every emergency. It irritated me no little 
and compelled me at times to break in with disclaimers or cor- 
rections. But none of the others seemed to mind — they were 
a generous lot of young fellows; I believe they were vying with 
each other to pile up the credit for me because they knew there 
was someone present in whose eyes I would like to shine. 

I sometimes thought I caught a message from Mademoiselle’s 
eyes to mine — “ I am proud of you ” — but I hardly dared be- 
lieve what I so much longed to believe. Certainly her eyes were 
beaming, her whole countenance was glowing with interest in 
Irving’s story. There were times, however, when he spoke of 
La Force — and Irving did not spare him ; he painted his false- 
ness and his cunning in the strongest colors — at such times 
Mademoiselle’s eyes dropped, a painful color mounted even to 
the waves of her hair, and once I caught a sudden quiver of her 
little chin. I wished Irving would let La Force alone or gloss 
him over as best he could. But Irving did not seem to notice 
her embarrassment or her suffering — I could not be sure which 
it was — and dilated with relish on La Force’s baseness and the 
pleasure it would be to any one of us to some day give him his 
deserts. 

After dinner, around the crackling hickory logs the talk 
gradually turned to other topics. Suddenly Miss Livingston 
spoke up sharply: 

“ Mademoiselle, where is my letter ? ” 

“ I do not know, Miss Livingston,” Miss Desloge answered 
timidly. 

“1 must have dropped it in the excitement of the arrivals. 
Go out on the veranda and look for it,” she ordered curtly. 

Now I never could endure that way Miss Livingston had of 
speaking to Miss Desloge as to a menial, and I wondered that 
a high-spirited young woman, such as Miss Desloge had proved 
herself to be on more than one occasion, could submit to it. 
Until this moment I had seen nothing of it in Miss Livingston’s 
manner since our return, and I had been hoping she had re- 


336 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


formed in that particular. Now, as Miss Desloge rose to her 
feet with heightened color, I too sprang to my feet. 

“ I will look for your letter, Miss Livingston," I said. 

I had not intended to speak haughtily, but her bullying man- 
ner, I could call it nothing else, to Miss Desloge, irritated me 
beyond measure, and I fear that is the way my words sounded. 

“ As you please," said Miss Livingston carelessly, “ and Made- 
moiselle may go also ; two pairs of eyes will be better than one." 

Out on the veranda we saw the letter at once lying on the 
floor by the chair where Miss Livingston had been sitting. We 
both stooped to get it at the same moment and our hands 
touched on the letter. Miss Desloge hastily withdrew hers and 
sprang aside, for our faces too had almost touched. But I 
seized her hand and held it for a moment. 

“ Mademoiselle," I said, “ why do you submit to be spoken to 
as Miss Livingston speaks to you ? " 

She did not draw away her hand, as I had expected her to, 
and I felt it tremble in my clasp as she answered : 

“ Oh, do not think too hardly of Miss Livingston. I do not 
believe she means it as it sounds ; at heart she is very kind." 

“ I do not believe any woman with a kind heart could so 
speak to a — a — dependent," I stammered, for I knew not 
what to call her when I came to give a name to the position 
she held. 

“ I suppose it is a habit acquired by speaking to slaves and 
she is not conscious of it," said Miss Desloge deprecatingly. 

“ That is just it," I returned angrily. “ She treats you as 
a slave, and I will not stand it. I will not stay in Miss Living- 
ston's house and tamely submit to seeing you so insulted." 

“ Do not speak so," Mademoiselle begged. “ I am sure she 
intends no insult, and if I am to earn my bread by being in 
the position I am, then I must accept some things that are 
disagreeable." 

Her words only roused me to greater indignation. 

“ Oh, why will you submit to it? " I exclaimed. “ Come 
with me to the Manse in the little village of Clermont and 
give me the right to protect you forever from such insults." 


BEHIND A CLOSED DOOR 


337 


Not until then did she take away her hand. She drew her- 
self up proudly as she spoke. 

“What! without your father’s knowledge or consent? 
Never ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ Miss Desloge,” I said earnestly, “ I believe if my father 
knew the condition of affairs, knew to what you are subjected, 
he would be the first to think I had acted wrongly if I had not 
rescued you from it. Will you come with me? ” 

But she only shook her head sadly, but so firmly, any argu- 
ment seemed hopeless. 

“You say you will not marry me without my father’s con- 
sent,” I said, catching at a straw; “will you marry me if I 
gain it?” 

But she shook her head again. 

“Do not ask me to tell you again, what I have twice told 
you before,” she answered gently. “ And, more, when I marry 
I will be married in my own country and in my own church. 
I will not marry in this foreign land.” 

I was silent, but I suppose my look of despair touched her 
heart. 

“You must not think I suffer so greatly, Sir Lionel,” she 
added, looking up at me with a winning look of pleading. The 
light streaming through the hall windows made the veranda 
quite light and suddenly I saw that twinkle dance into her 
eyes, as she went on. “You must not think Miss Livingston 
is always so disagreeable to me; she is often very nice, and 
sometimes I think it is only when you are present that she 
speaks to me so curtly.” 

The twinkle could have but one interpretation: Miss Des- 
loge believed, as I had sometimes believed, that Miss Living- 
ston was trying to discredit her in my eyes that she might have 
the better chance to win my favor for herself. She was cer- 
tainly going about it in a strange way. 

I was terribly embarrassed by Miss Desloge’s speech; I could 
not appear to understand it, and I hardly knew what reply to 
make. 

“ Miss Desloge,” I said, “ if my presence adds one feather- 
22 


338 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


weight to the load of ignominy Miss Livingston heaps upon 
yon, I will not remain another day under her roof. I will see 
her and tell her so.” 

“ Oh, you will not go to-night, I hope,” she said quickly. 

“No, I will wait until the morning,” I answered, “when I 
can make an occasion to see her alone.” 

“ And you will not make a scene ? ” she entreated. And yet, 
somehow, there was something in her voice, or manner, that 
made me feel she would not greatly object if I did make a scene. 

“ I will not promise,” I answered, and had much more on 
my tongue’s end to say, but at some slight sound from the hall, 
conveyed to our ears through the closed doors, Miss Desloge 
started guiltily and spoke quickly : 

“ Oh, how long we have been out here ! What will Miss 
Livingston think ! Come, we must go in at once.” 

As we entered the hall. Miss Desloge ahead and bearing the 
letter, I behind trying to make my countenance absolutely im- 
passive, Miss Livingston spoke up sharply, extending her hand 
for the letter as she spoke : 

“Well, here you are at last! You must have been all over 
the manor looking for that letter. The wind had blown it away, 
I suppose.” 

And giving us no chance to assent or deny, for which I was 
devoutly thankful and so, I suppose, was Mademoiselle, she be- 
gan at once to read it aloud. 

It was from her father in Paris, and all about a young Mr. 
Fulton with whom he had been engaged in making some trials 
on the Seine of propelling a boat by steam. The last trial had 
been successful, and Mr. Livingston was extremely enthusiastic 
over it. He was going to bring Mr. Fulton home with him, 
and they would make more extensive trials on the Hudson ; and 
the first steamboat that ran from New York to Albany should 
be called the Clermont, and his daughter should ride in it. 

The letter gave rise to enthusiastic discussions around the 
blazing fire. Some thought it was all foolishness, it could 
never be of any practical use; others were not so sure, and 
Lloyd said simply : 


BEHIND A CLOSED DOOR 


339 


“I have never been much interested in science, but the men 
who are can certainly do wonderful things; sometimes I al- 
most think they work them by black art. I spent last winter 
in St. Louis with a man who did many strange things. He 
made little sticks that w T ould burst into flame by simply scratch- 
ing them on some hard substances, and he put quicksilver into 
little glass bottles and it told how hot it was, or whether it 
was going to rain or snow. For my part,” he concluded soberly, 
“ I shall not be astonished at what any man does, since I have 
lived with Dr. Saugrain.” 

“ But did you never meet Mr. Fulton in Paris ? ” Miss Liv- 
ingston asked. 

“ Mr. Fulton ? ” Lloyd stopped to think a moment, as was 
his habit. “Had he very wonderful dark eyes and curling 
chestnut hair? I met a Mr. Fulton in whom your father was 
greatly interested, but I thought he was an artist.” 

“ So he was,” said Miss Livingston, “ and a very good one, 
I believe, until he got this bee in his bonnet.” 

I was too full of my own thoughts and in too desperate a 
mood to be much interested in this talk about a Mr. Fulton 
of whom I never expected to hear again. I was not one of 
those who believed his inventions would ever come to anything 
and I thought Mr. Livingston was squandering his money very 
foolishly, for I knew such experiments must be exceeding 
costly. But I was not in a state of mind to care what any 
Livingston did just now; the whole family were involved, in 
my mind, in the odium I bore Miss Livingston. I was des- 
perately tired and thoroughly miserable; I wished someone 
would make a move towards bed. As if in answer to my wish. 
Miss Livingston spoke: 

“ Sir Lionel, I think you and your friends must be suffering 
from the fatigues of your adventures. Mademoiselle and I will 
withdraw, and you can smoke or to bed, as you will.” 

This was a most considerate speech and most gently spoken. 
Miss Livingston in this mood was always charming. It was 
in my heart to like her greatly if she would only show more 
consideration for Mademoiselle. I sprang up with alacrity to 


340 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


light the bedroom candles, standing on a table in the hall, but 
Mayor Livingston was ahead of me. He had one already 
lighted and was handing it to Mademoiselle as I came up, and- 
I heard him say: 

“I am leaving very early in the morning, Miss Desloge; 
since you will not come with me to New York, I hope you will 
be up in time to bid me good-by.” 

So he was interested in her. I had always thought so, now 
I was sure of it. I would not listen to her reply, but as I 
handed a candlestick to Miss Livingston I bowed formally, and 
said to her in a manner purposely cold and distant : 

“ I think, madam, it will be necessary for me to accompany 
Mayor Livingston to New York in the morning; may I have 
the honor of an interview with you before I go ? ” 

“ Certainly, sir,” she said, “ though I had hoped you and 
your friends would honor my poor house with a longer stay.” 

I only bowed in reply and the two maidens mounted the 
great staircase, each bearing a lighted taper in a massive silver 
candlestick, and each graceful head turned over the shoulder 
to catch the last good-nights from the seven men drawn up at 
the foot of the staircase bowing and smiling in response to the 
smiles of the maidens. I thought it a wonderfully pretty 
picture. 

As they reached the landing and turned toward the next 
flight, Irving snatched a glass from a stand nearby, which held 
the after-dinner wine we had been taking together, around the 
fire, as is the pleasant custom in some American country-houses, 
raised it high above his head, and in his musical tenor broke 
into song: 

“ Here ’s to the maiden of bashful fifteen, 

Here ’s to the widow of fifty,” etc. 

Every man followed his example and at the ringing chorus: 

“ Let the toast pass, 

Drink to the lass, 

I warrant she ’ll prove an excuse for the glass.” 



“ Let the toast pass n 



BEHIND A CLOSED DOOR 


341 


the ladies on the landing curtsied low. As they rose from the 
curtsy their eyes swept the phalanx of men below ringing out 
the chorus with lifted glasses, and for each man each maiden 
had a smile. But Mademoiselle’s eyes rested on mine last, 
and as they lingered a moment I thought there was something 
better than a smile in her eyes for me. 

A half hour I stayed downstairs with the men, and then, as 
an excuse for withdrawing, I said I must be up early in the 
morning, as I was to start for New York with the mayor. 

“ Then I go with you,” said Lloyd, “ for I must hasten home.” 

The others tried to persuade us to remain over for a few days. 

“ Kemble ’s not able to travel any farther, he ’s so worn out 
with his adventures,” said Irving with a sly wink at me, “ and 
surely you ’ll not desert him.” 

But nothing could turn me from my purpose. 

“ I ’ll see you in New York,” I said, “ and we ’ll talk it over 
together. ‘ For sitan et Jiaec olim / you know.” And they were 
compelled to give up trying to persuade me. 

Going through the corridor to our room, which Lloyd and I 
were to occupy together, we heard the sound of laughter and 
merry voices from behind a closed door, and just as we passed 
the door I heard Miss Livingston’s high, clear voice say, “ Oh, 
I would n’t miss it for anything ! ” 

There was another gurgle of half-suppressed laughter and 
then I heard Miss Desloge’s voice, always low-pitched, but its 
tones sounded to me regretful or pathetic, as if she might be 
saying, “ Poor fellow ! ” 

I had an uncomfortable feeling about that little speech of 
Miss Livingston’s and the laughter that followed and Miss 
Desloge’s compassionate tones, and yet I knew not why; I had 
no reason for supposing they had anything to do with me. 


XXYII 


THE LETTER R 

I HAD my interview with Miss Livingston the next morn- 
ing — it was brief, but I hoped it was to the point. 

“ Miss Livingston,” I began, “ I must first thank you for 
your courtesy to a stranger. You have made me feel always 
that I was entirely welcome, and Clermont has proved more of 
a home to me than I had expected to find in America.” 

She made some polite rejoinder and I hurried on: 

“But while you have been most courteous to me, I have 
found it hard to endure that you should treat an estimable 
young lady under your roof with such marked discourtesy.” 
Her face flamed scarlet. 

“ Marked discourtesy ! ” she echoed. “ Sir Lionel, I think 
our acquaintance hardly warrants your using such words to me. 
I know not what right you have to criticise my manner toward 
a paid dependent.” 

I had no right. I knew it well. But her words were most 
offensive to me and stirred me so profoundly I threw all sense 
of propriety to the winds. 

“ I have the right, madam,” I said coldly, “ that every gen- 
tleman must assume to himself when he sees a helpless creature 
treated cruelly.” 

There was some kind of struggle going on within Miss Liv- 
ingston that prevented her replying for a moment. Her face 
was crimson, and her eyes were moist. I was sure she was 
about to burst into tears or laughter, and I could not be sure 
which. But after a moment she controlled herself and spoke 
with even greater hauteur. 

“ Sir Lionel,” she said, “ I am sorry to see you so interested 
in one so far beneath you. I think it would hardly please 

342 


THE LETTER R 


343 


your father if he knew that you were taking up the cudgels 
so seriously in behalf of an unknown foreign girl, a French- 
woman, and in service at that.” 

“ Miss Livingston ! ” I exclaimed, for the moment almost too 
shocked for words at the heartlessness of her speech. And then 
I went on boldly. I was rash, perhaps, but I believed I was 
right. 

“Miss Livingston, Miss Desloge may be a foreigner and a 
Frenchwoman, and, as you say, in service, but as to being far 
beneath me, she is as far above me as the star is above the moth. 
And as to my father being displeased, my father is a gentleman, 
madam, and would recognize a lady of true breeding however 
lowly her station might be.” 

I could not be mistaken, there was a fleeting twinkle in her 
eye at my brave speech ; no doubt she thought it boyish. In a 
moment she spoke again, but with an entire change of manner. 

“ Oh, la ! ” she said, tossing her head, “ what an ado about 
nothing! Come in to breakfast. Sir Lionel, and let bygones 
be bygones. Perhaps I will have experienced a change of heart 
and be the most considerate of mistresses by the time you come 
to Clermont again.” 

I bowed stiffly and followed her into the house. I liked 
neither to have my serious protest made light of in this fashion, 
nor to be treated as a boy, but I saw no use in prolonging the 
discussion. I was half angry with myself for having begun it. 
I had accomplished nothing, I was quite sure, but to put my- 
self in Miss Livingston’s bad graces and cut myself off from 
Clermont. And Clermont, of course, meant Mademoiselle. 

There was no one at the early breakfast but the travelers, and 
Miss Livingston and Miss Desloge, except, of course, the silent 
Miss Pomeroy, an ancient maiden lady who lived at Clermont 
in Mr. Robert Livingston’s absence as perpetual chaperone, and 
who would not have thought she was doing her duty if she had 
allowed the young ladies to be present at the early morning 
breakfast without her. It was due to her presence, I thought, 
that I found no chance for a word of farewell with Made- 
moiselle, for, though I knew she was gracing this early meal 


344 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


for Mr. Livingston’s sake, and not mine, I none the less coveted 
a word with her, and was irritated proportionately with the 
prim Miss Pomeroy. 

And though I could not make the opportunity, since Miss 
Pomeroy clung to me with a persistence that was far from 
flattering, since she seemed to think I was to be treated with 
suspicion, yet I thought Miss Desloge might have made it; 
and I rode down that magnificent avenue of scarlet and gold 
through the crisp, frosty air, Lloyd on one side of me and Mr. 
Livingston on the other, with gloom and dissatisfaction in my 
heart that was little in consonance with the bright October 
morning. 

Mayor Livingston told us, as we rode down the familiar Post 
Road, along the banks of the beautiful river, that he had been 
waiting at Clermont only to hear the result of our expedition. 
Although he assured us he had not for a moment counted on our 
recovering the money — La Force’s plans, he knew, would be 
too well and deeply laid — yet, I believe that he had counted 
much on it, and that his disappointment was proportionately 
great. How we had come to fail in our attempt I could hardly 
see. I had been so confident of success and it maddened me to 
think La Force had been so much cleverer than I, watching us, 
no doubt, as we toiled up the hill to Natty Bumpo’s cave with 
that heavy chest, and laughing to himself at our fruitless labor. 

As he said, Mr. Livingston had only waited to know the re- 
sult; now he was going back to New York to resign his office 
and make his arrangements for leaving the city. He had re- 
solved to try his fortunes in the new province of Louisiana 
and in the city of New Orleans, which was to be formally 
ceded to the United States in December. He had high hopes 
of success there as a barrister, since he was fluent with his 
French and had the American law at his tongue’s end and his 
finger tips — by which I mean he was both ready to speak and 
to write it. 

I saw but little of him after my return to the city, and I 
often wondered if he were in communication with Mademoiselle 
Desloge and how his affairs were progressing in that direction. 


THE LETTER E 


345 


Of Mademoiselle I saw nothing and heard nothing at all for 
four or five weeks. Then, one day late in November, I re- 
ceived a note from Miss Livingston dated from the Livingston 
house on Broadway, and saying that Miss Desloge had told 
her that she had an engagement with me for sunrise on the 
morning of the twenty-fifth. Since the twenty-fifth happened 
also to be Thanksgiving Day — a great feast day with the 
Americans, I had heard — she invited me to dinner on that 
day. And since Thanksgiving dinner was always a family 
affair and likely to be tedious, it was set for the early hour 
of three. Would I come and be one of the family with them, 
since I had no family of my own in America with whom to 
dine? 

I thought it particularly kind of Miss Livingston to forget 
and forgive in this friendly fashion my berating of her so 
cavalierly on my last morning in Clermont. I told her so in 
my note when I accepted her invitation, but what I did not tell 
her was that I could not so easily forget her treatment of Miss 
Desloge. However, I hoped she might have reformed in that, 
and I was glad of a chance to see Miss Desloge again on any 
terms. I racked my brains for a good two hours before I could 
remember any engagement with Miss Desloge for the twenty- 
fifth, but at last I recalled our conversation on the Sea Gull 
and the invitation I had given her to be present with me to 
see the flag raised on the liberty pole at sunrise on November 
twenty-fifth — an invitation which I had understood she did 
not accept. 

I knew I was not mistaken and it set me to wondering what 
she could mean by reminding me of it now. Did it mean she 
wanted to see me again? Had my silence of weeks piqued 
her? Could it be possible she had repented of her refusal? 
Was she, at last, beginning to think she would be willing to 
marry some other than a Frenchman? 

It was foolish of me, no doubt, to be encouraging any such 
hopes, but I could not set out in the dark of that bleak and 
icy November morning for my walk down Broadway to Miss 
Livingston’s house, without thrilling at the thought that per- 


346 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


haps, this time, my hopes would not be vain. Even if I had had 
no hopes at all, the mere thought of seeing her again, after an 
absence of weeks, would have set me all ablaze with anticipa- 
tion. 

And in this absence from her I had come to one determina- 
tion: Miss Desloge liked me, of that I was sure. I was al- 
most sure that she liked me better than anyone else, at least, 
in America. It was possible, of course, that there was some- 
one in France she liked better — someone she hoped to go back 
to some day — but I hardly believed that. I believed, instead, 
that she had fully determined she would marry none but a 
Frenchman and live only in France. Well, perhaps that de- 
termination was unalterable; perhaps it was not. But unalter- 
able or not, I had resolved that I would not seek Miss Desloge; 
I would not thrust myself upon her or worry her with my 
importunities; but whenever, by good chance, I was in her 
presence, I would enjoy every moment of it. No other man, 
when I was near, should have more of her smiles or more of 
her words. Now this was rather a brave resolution, and I 
was reminding myself of it and screwing my courage up to 
stick to it as I walked briskly down Broadway on an icy 
pavement. I was likely to spend most of this day in Miss 
Desloge’s society; let me see to it that I improved every mo- 
ment of it. 

It was with a heart beating high with resolve and excite- 
ment that I was ushered into the Livingston library by a sleepy 
black man. A newly-kindled fire blazed in the wide chimney 
place and lit up the dusky room with a warm glow. Into this 
rosy glow stepped the most enchanting little figure I have 
ever looked upon. I had seen Miss Desloge only in filmy sum- 
mer frocks or rich evening dress. I hardly knew this slim 
creature in a long pelisse of hunter’s green with sable trim- 
mings, her little chin nestled in a broad tibbet of rich dark 
fur, and her little hands lost in an enormous muff, while a 
quilted bonnet of hunter’s green satin with a drooping plume 
half hid her sweet brown eyes and red gold curls. 

“ Is this Miss Desloge?” I said as I came forward into the 


THE LETTER R 


347 


fire-glow beside her, “ or is it a little Esquimau straight from 
the North Pole?” 

“Not straight from the North Pole, but straight from Mr. 
Astor’s store on Queen Street. Don’t you think these furs are 
lovely? They would cost a fortune in Paris.” 

Now I knew well enough that they must have cost a fortune 
here, also, for I, too, had been in Mr. Astor’s store, and the 
warm coat I was wearing, fur-lined from my ears to my heels, 
had come from that famous dealer in furs and had cost no 
small sum. I wondered how she had been able to buy them. 
Had she squandered every cent of her small salary (I sup- 
posed it must be small), or were they a gift from Miss Living- 
ston? Well, it was none of my business; so I answered her, 
looking straight into her eyes : 

“ Lovely, indeed ! I have never seen anything lovelier.” 

“Shall we be going?” she demanded quickly. “We must 
not miss seeing Van Arsdale climb that liberty pole.” 

For answer I extended my arm and she barely touched it 
with the tips of her little mittened fingers. Whereupon I boldly 
seized her hand, resolutely drew it through my arm and held it 
close. 

“We are likely to find some ice on the streets, Mademoiselle,” 
I said; “you must needs have a firm hold of me.” 

“ Are you so much surer-footed than I ? ” she asked, laugh- 
ing, to cover her confusion, the signs of which I could plainly 
discover, even in the depth of her bonnet, and at which I re- 
joiced. 

“ Put out your foot and let me see,” I demanded. 

Whereat she daintily set forward a little foot in a fur-tipped 
moccasin. 

“I thought so,” I said. “About as big as Titania’s, and 
as much use on an icy pavement as a pair of Chinese chop- 
sticks.” 

“We are wasting time,” she answered. “ Come, the sun will 
be up before we know it,” pulling me forward with her little 
hand as she spoke. 

The sleepy black let us out of the door into a fairy world. 


348 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ Oh ! ” she said, and again, “ Oh ! I have never seen any- 
thing like it ! Is n’t it enchanting ? ” 

And indeed it was. I had never seen anything like it either. 
Up and and down the street every graceful drooping elm, every 
straight-limbed poplar, every wide-armed maple, was a blaze 
of diamonds. It had been so dark when I had left the City 
Tavern I had hardly noticed them, but now the dawn was 
rapidly brightening and every tiniest twig was a prism break- 
ing up each faintest ray of light into a thousand flashing beams. 

We walked through Fairyland down Broadway to the Bowling 
Green, and what I liked much was that we walked on a sea of 
glass, so that I had good excuse for holding that little hand 
close, and what I liked still better was that sometimes, as her 
feet slipped, she clung frantically to me with both hands, and 
little shrieks of “ Oh ! ” and “ Ah ! ” and “ Mon Dieu ! ” For- 
tunately the great muff hung from a heavy cord around her 
neck or it would have been lost many times in that short but 
dangerous passage to the little park at the foot of Broadway. 

In spite of the early hour and the icy morning there was a 
crowd of men and boys with a few scattering women to see 
young David Van Arsdale climb the pole and set the colors 
flying. He did it like a seasoned salt, and though the pole was 
not greased, the ice made it hardly an easier task than his 
father had found it twenty years before. As the brilliant ban- 
ner floated to the breeze it was greeted with cheers, and Made- 
moiselle waved a white handkerchief and I swung my hat, 
though neither of us was American. Yet every heart, whether 
Gallic or Saxon, loves to see a gallant deed, and my sympathies 
had always been on the side of the colonies as I had read of 
their seven years’ struggle for freedom. 

The wind that swept up the bay was growing colder every 
minute, and Miss Desloge began to shiver. There was nothing 
to stay for longer, except that, now the sun was up, the trees 
around the little Green and on the Battery below, were flashing 
a thousand dazzling rays from every tiny crystal. The world 
was a blaze of glory, and it was hard to tear one’s self away. 

Yet once inside the Livingston library — Miss Desloge had 


THE LETTER R 


349 


insisted I must come in and get warm — I cared little for the 
fairy world we had left, for as Miss Desloge threw off her 
bonnet and pelisse, the fire-light on her red gold hair was far 
more dazzling than the crystal world outside. She bade me 
take the chair in the opposite chimney corner and without giv- 
ing me a chance to direct the conversation, she began at once, 
and with the air of an elder sister : 

“ Now tell me what you have been doing for the last five 
weeks.” 

But I was not to be diverted from asking the question I had 
intended to ask her, as soon as we were within the shelter of 
four walls. 

“ Tell me, first, how you happened to send me that message 
about our sunrise engagement? I suppose you know we had no 
engagement ? ” 

She was taken aback by my boldness. For a moment she 
blushed and stammered, and then the old twinkle came dancing 
into her eyes. 

“ You are ungenerous. I thought you would think that we 
had an engagement and you had forgotten it; or at least, that I 
thought we had.” 

“No, I thought neither.” 

“ What did you think ? ” 

“ I thought many, things, but they do not matter ; may I tell 
you what I hoped ? ” 

But apparently she was not ready to hear my hopes. She 
broke in quickly : 

“I will tell you why I sent that message — I was growing 
anxious about you ; we had been hearing many reports of you in 
Clermont.” 

“ I suppose you heard of my racing Saladin ? I wish you 
had been there to see. There were sixteen entries,” I went on 
hurriedly, determined to give her no chance to interrupt, “ and 
Saladin got away from the field in the very start. They never 
came near him from the moment we left Chatham Square till 
we came to the finish three miles out on the Bowery Road. I 
won the saddle, you know ? ” 


350 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ Did you win nothing else ? ” she asked severely. 

“You mean, did I win any bets? Of course I had some 
money up on my own horse, but it’s all right. I won it ten 
times over.” 

“ I would like it better, if you had lost it,” she said soberly. 
“ But tell me, where did you go when the race was over ? ” 

“ Out to the Belvedere Club with some of the members,” I 
answered, wondering at her catechism but determined to keep 
my temper. “It is a delightful spot, particularly on a warm 
day. It overlooks the East River and you can see across to 
Brooklyn and down the bay, and if there ’s any breeze in any 
direction, one is bound to get it on the Club-House veranda.” 

“ Do you mind telling me what you and your friends did at 
the Club?” 

“ Amused ourselves in the various fashions gentlemen are in 
the habit of amusing themselves,” I answered stiffly, growing 
restive, at last. 

“ I do not know the fashion of their ways,” she answered 
with some warmth, “ but I have been hearing too much of your 
racing and betting and — gambling.” 

At that I grew angry indeed. 

“Why should you care? You never gave me any reason to 
think you cared about anything I do,” I said with a show of 
temper. “ Perhaps if you had, it might be different. I would 
not then have to distract myself with all kinds of amusements.” 

“ I do care,” she answered, once more quietly. “ Anyone 
would care about a friend’s doings, and I am always thinking 
of your father, and why he sent you here, and what he would 
think.” 

I was silent a moment; her speech had touched me. I had 
been rather wild in these five weeks and it was largely, as I 
had intimated, for the sake of distraction that I had plunged 
into every species of folly the gay New York society had of- 
fered me. I had been finding it easy to be gay since coming 
back to the city. The fame of my trial and my pursuit of 
La Force had brought the young gentry of New York about me 
in crowds on my return; and a delightful set of young fellows 


THE LETTER R 


351 


I had found them and their families most hospitable. There 
was hardly a great house on Broadway or Broad Street or 
Queen’s Street or Wall Street, or a villa on the Bloomingdale 
Road or the Bowery Road that had not entertained me. I had 
found the daughters of the houses charming and the mothers 
no less so. Sometimes mother and daughter had made it plain 
that Sir Lionel of Clover Combe Court was welcome to even 
more than a guest’s place in the family circle, and had I been 
heart free I know not but I might have succumbed to the charms 
of some of those fair young “ Knickerbockers,” as my friend 
Irving has since named them. As it was, I danced with them ; 
I went driving with them on the “ fourteen mile round ” ; with 
some of them, I even took moonlight walks, out the Boston 
Post Road as far as the Kissing Bridge ; and yet returned home, 
heart whole and fancy free. 

I had been gay, but in my swift glance backward over the 
five weeks I had the proud consciousness that, for all my folly, 
I had harmed no man or woman ; that if any maiden in the gay 
little city thought more highly of me than she ought to think, 
it was no word of mine, and, I believed, no glance or air of de- 
votion of mine that had betrayed her to it. 

And so I said this to Miss Desloge, and with something of 
the pride of self-respect I felt, for it had come to me in a flash 
that, if she had been hearing of my racing and betting, per- 
haps, also, she had heard that I had been trifling with the affec- 
tions of the young New York damsels. And I think I was right 
in my conjecture, for it was with an air of relief that she said 
earnestly and simply: 

“I believe you, Sir Lionel. I did not think your father’s 
son could ever stoop to petty follies. And now you must for- 
give my assuming the role of mentor uninvited. You must 
have wondered at me, but you must acknowledge, only the most 
friendly anxiety for your welfare could have compelled me to 
venture on such presuming.” 

I had it on my tongue’s end to say, “ Keep the role and keep 
the office. Be my mentor now and forever,” when the sleepy 
black put his head in the door with an invitation from Miss 


352 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


Livingston to Sir Lionel to stay to breakfast. I sprang to my 
feet. I had forgotten the flight of time, and with a polite 
message of regret to Miss Livingston and a reminder to Miss 
Desloge that I should see her again at three, I took my leave 
with a light heart. I believed I was making progress. Her 
anxiety for my welfare must have a better foundation than 
mere friendliness, or regard for my father. “ And it ’s odd,” 
I said to myself, “how she always brings him in exactly as if 
she knew him.” 

I think no other day I spent in America had quite the charm 
of that Thanksgiving Day. I found it had begun to snow 
when I once more stepped out of the Livingston house. The 
brilliant sun of the morning, that had set the ice-laden trees 
to flashing and sparkling, had gone. Heavy clouds had come 
up from the southeast and the first flakes were big and fleecy 
and quickly melting as they fell; but the wind gradually veered 
to the east, and then to the northeast, growing colder as it 
veered, the flakes grew smaller, filling the air, and no longer 
melting as they fell, and by three o’clock there were six inches 
of snow on the ground and no signs of letting up in what had 
now become a driving storm. 

By three o’clock, also, the streets were alive with sleighs of 
every description. One-horse cutters and two-horse carioles, 
and an occasional one drawn by four horses, gay with bells and 
nodding plumes, and warm with rich fur robes, were flying up 
and down the Broadway, calling for or depositing merry loads 
at every house. Evidently the whole city was giving dinner 
parties, and at the same hour. 

I thought a family dinner was hardly the occasion for being 
fashionably late, and so, wrapped in my furs, I walked down 
the Broadway and arrived at the Livingston’s promptly on the 
stroke of three. The house, that had been quiet enough in 
the morning, was brimming with young life. Children were 
at every window, watching the arrivals; young people were in 
every cozy nook; older people were gathered around the blazing 
fires. I was abashed, and had it not been that Miss Livingston 
came out into the hall where I was getting myself out of my 


THE LETTER R 


353 


furs, and made me at once cordially at home by taking my arm 
and conducting me from group to group, I would have fled 
appalled. This was my first meeting with her since I parted 
with her in anger at Clermont. There was no shadow of re- 
membrance, in her manner, of that parting, and I said to myself, 
ci What manner of woman is this, that can captivate my liking 
by her gracious charm and make me furiously angry by her 
uncalled-for severity to a helpless dependent ? ” 

I am not going to describe that dinner, even if I could. By 
this time many Englishmen have sat down to a Thanksgiving 
feast and they know the joys of the groaning table, presided 
over by lordly turkeys, oozing richness from every pore of their 
crisp brown skins. The Livingston family was a large one, 
and there were aunts and uncles and cousins at that dinner 
from every branch of the family. Many of them bore names 
that had already grown familiar to me as among the proudest 
of the proud little city. And so great a company was it that, 
though one long table was set the whole length of the great 
dining-room, another, almost as long, was set in the wide hall for 
the younger children. 

I have said it was one of the most delightful days I spent 
in America, and yet I had but little chance for conversation with 
Mademoiselle. I had a charming young lady for my dinner 
partner and Miss Desloge was far down the long table. I was 
doing my best to make myself agreeable to my neighbor and to 
those nearest me, and Mademoiselle, I could see, was the center 
of attraction to all the young Livingstons and Van Cortlandts 
and Van Rensselaers in her neighborhood, and for once I liked 
to see it and felt no pangs of jealousy. I think what made 
the charm of the day to me was seeing her in so many new 
lights; seeing her help Miss Livingston play the hostess with 
such a pretty air of being at home; seeing her carve one of 
those great turkeys more swiftly and deftly than any man 
could have done; seeing all those young men hover around her, 
eager for a word or a smile, and the young maidens hardly 
less eager. And then, when the dinner was over, long after 
dark, with blazing fires leaping and crackling in every room, 

23 


354 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


and a hundred wax tapers adding their mellow radiance to the 
red glow of the fires, to see her enter into the children’s romp 
with all the innocent merriment and lack of self-consciousness 
of a child, was a charming thing to behold. 

Not that I seemed to be watching her, I hope. I was in a 
cozy nook with a beautiful Miss Van Cortlandt and I do not be- 
lieve she thought me too interested in the children’s romp or 
thought me anything but entirely absorbed in her lively chatter, 
yet I lost not a word or a movement of Miss Desloge, while I 
kept up my end of Miss Van Cortlandt’s pretty nonsense as 
best I could. 

And I think she thought it was entirely for her sake that I 
suggested joining in blind man’s buff, a game that one of the 
older lads had proposed, and that they had been playing for 
a full ten minutes. I had been watching them growing every 
moment noisier and more excited, as each blinded boy tried to 
catch and kiss Miss Desloge, and I grew every moment more 
eager to have a hand in the game. 

I think Miss Van Cortlandt thought it was for her sake, for 
she blushed very prettily as she assented, and my conscience 
smote me. I managed to get caught by a very little girl almost 
on the first round, and when the handkerchief was bound about 
my eyes, I peeped shamelessly, and so managed to avoid all the 
maidens and little girls who artlessly put themselves in my 
way, and never losing sight of the red gold curls, I cornered 
their owner where she was hiding by a great hautboy and cap- 
tured her. With one arm holding her as she struggled to get 
free, I put the other hand on her curls as if trying to identify her. 
Of course I knew very well whom I had caught. No other 
curls, I knew, could feel so soft and warm and vital to the 
touch, even if I had not caught her open-eyed and with inten- 
tion. Yet not for the world, before that laughing roomful, 
would I have named her aright and claimed my reward; so, 
taking advantage of the gleeful din the youngsters were mak- 
ing, I said, low, for her ears alone, “my little Esquimau.” 
Aloud I boldly named Miss Van Cortlandt who, fortunately, also 
wore her hair in curls. And as I named her, I tore off my 


THE LETTEE E 


355 


bandage and pretended to be greatly surprised that I had named 
her wrong, and disappointed that I had lost the kiss that would 
have been mine had I named her aright. 

As I took off my bandage I saw Miss Desloge cowering in 
the corner, her hands before her face. Did she so greatly dread 
that kiss? 

“You are in no danger, madam, since I failed to call you 
aright,” I said gravely, but my heart was not grave. Just to 
have held her in my arms one moment, just to have let my hand 
linger on her lovely hair, caressing its clustering ringlets — 
for that was what I was really doing under pretense of trying 
to decide the owner — just to have whispered in her ear, “my 
little Esquimau,” and felt her soft palpitation at the words, 
was more intoxicating than the fine old Madeira we had had 
at dinner, and for the rest of the evening no boisterous lad or 
romping lass of that merry family party was in wilder spirits 
than I. 

By eight o’clock sleigh after sleigh with jingling bells had 
glided to the door, received its merry burden well hooded, 
cloaked, and furred, and glided away again. I made a feint 
of going with the others, but Miss Livingston said to me in a 
peremptory aside, “ Stay where you are, sir,” and I was glad to 
obey. 

The house seemed wonderfully quiet after the tumult of the 
day, and delightfully warm and cozy and shut-in, with the 
wind howling down the wide chimneys and the snow driving 
against the window panes and piling high on the ledges. There 
was a loud rap of the ponderous brass knocker on the street 
door and, a moment later, a blast of cold air, as the knock was 
quickly responded to by one of the many black boys in attend- 
ance, and a great noise of stamping feet and a cheery call in 
Irving’s well-known voice: 

“Bring us a broom, Sambo, and sweep us off; we’ll melt if 
we go near a fire in our present condition.” 

When a moment later he and Kemble entered the room he 
saluted Miss Livingston with: 

“ We ’ve come for our apples and doughnuts and cider and 


356 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


walnuts, Miss Livingston. It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving with- 
out them.” 

“ You surely don’t want them yet ? ” Miss Livingston asked. 
“You are hardly through dinner, I suppose.” 

“ Oh, no, not before somewhere near midnight,” Kemble re- 
plied for him quickly. “ We ’ve come for a long, cozy, quiet chat 
after the fatigues of Thanksgiving, and the longer the better.” 

And that was just what we had. Each in the most com- 
fortable chair he could find drawn up around the fire, we made 
a little semicircle. Mr. Livingston was to leave the next day 
for the South; this was his last evening with us. The journey 
would be a long one, and not without peril, and our talk natu- 
rally fell on the excitements of it, and the new life he was to 
take up in the French city of the South. 

We all talked quietly, for our hearts were touched at the 
thought of the lonely man, going bravely out to seek new for- 
tunes in a distant field, but Miss Desloge was even quieter than 
the rest of us. She seldom spoke, and then only in answer to 
some speech made directly to her, generally by Irving or Mr. 
Livingston. I wondered if it was the departure of the morrow 
that made her so quiet; if, perhaps, she was sad at the thought 
of it. 

And then I, too, fell to musing — of our talk that morning; 
of her sweet housewifely air at dinner and her merry ways with 
the children after dinner; of holding her in my arms one 
blessed moment, and — just at that point in my musings, in 
came Sambo, bearing a great tray with a foaming flagon of 
cider, a generous dish of nuts and apples, and a goodly pile of 
toothsome doughnuts, exactly as Irving had demanded. 

As we ate our apples we whirled the parings around our 
heads and flung them on the floor. Miss Desloge’s made a 
perfect L. She blushed (was it for Lionel or Livingston she 
blushed?) and whirled it round her head once more. This time 
it was an M, as clear as print, and nothing could persuade her 
to try it again. 

But mine made always an R. Over and over I tried it but 
it was always the same, and I was greatly vexed. 


XXVIII 


I WEAR MY HAT IN THE PIT 

F OR a week I was in the seventh heaven and then, one 
night, I summarily fell to the seventh — hades. 

For a week after that happy Thanksgiving I saw Miss Des- 
loge every day. The very afternoon following there was a 
cariole party to Captain Marriner’s Tavern, ten miles out on 
the Bowery Road, with a hot supper of oysters and game, for 
which the inn was famous, and dancing after supper in the 
long dining-room, and a ten-mile ride home in the moonlight — 
and I was in the cariole with Miss Livingston and Kemble and 
Miss Desloge ! 

Now you must remember that at home I had seen little of 
society. I was but a lad of fifteen when I entered Oxford and 
I had hardly been in London except to run down from college 
to see a play or hear some great concert — for I was music 
mad in those days, and played a little myself on the ’cello. 
My summers had been spent in travel, and at Clover Combe I 
cared nothing for the county society. My father told me I 
was too young to take an interest in it, I would come to it some 
day. But such a thing as a sleighing party with young men 
and maidens and no tiresome elders to put a check on our 
spirits had never come within the range of my experience. 
Small wonder I was in the seventh heaven! 

And then the very next day Irving and I were invited out 
to dinner at the Grange with Miss Livingston and Miss Des- 
loge. And going up over Harlem Heights our cariole plunged 
into a great snow drift and upset us all, and what with digging 
ourselves out first, and then the two maidens, and getting them 
brushed off and stowed away in the cariole with the warm rugs 
snugly tucked around them, and safely pulled out of the deep 

357 


358 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


drift without another upset, we were in such a gale of glee by 
the time we reached the Grange that Mr. Hamilton pretended 
to be greatly offended with us. We were taking his dinner 
party as a huge joke, and he had a notion to retaliate by giving 
us no dinner. But with the appetite our ride in the keen air 
had given us, I assured him we would make no bones of serving 
him up to appease our hunger if nothing better offered. 

We found this was more of a party than we had expected, 
with Mrs. Hamilton’s sister, Mrs. Van Bensselaer, and her 
husband, the handsome Patroon, as the guests of honor. It 
was a great dinner of a dozen courses, with a bewildering va- 
riety of dishes, each one a little better than the last, and 
we sat so long at the table that by the time we had had onr 
coffee in the big living-room whose windows looked out over 
the Hudson, twilight had wrapped the Jersey hills in gloom, 
the full moon was rising in the east, and it was time for another 
glorious ride home by its light. 

The next night there was a ball given by another Livingston 
— that Mrs. Henry Walter Livingston who lived in the Liv- 
ingston Manor House on the Hudson, on the original manor, 
of which Clermont was only a part. She was a very beautiful 
woman and a great leader in New York society and the ball 
was a very grand affair. Miss Desloge wore a more beautiful 
costume than I had yet seen her wear, all of shimmering white 
and silver (and it flashed into my mind that for a poor girl she 
had many grand gowns) and every man there wanted to dance 
with her; but I led her out in the minuet, I took her down to 
supper, and after supper it was I who dared to struggle through 
the new dance with her, the waltz — she floating like a fairy 
to the witching music, and I once more in the seventh heaven 
with her hand on my shoulder and my arm about her waist. 

I am not going to tell the tale of every one of those seven 
days, each one a heaven to me and each one leaving me a little 
more frantically and hopelessly in love with Mademoiselle. 
But the seventh day was the grand climax of them all; and 
if each day had been a heaven, the seventh day was seven 
heavens. 


I WEAE MY HAT IN’ THE PIT 


359 


We young men were giving an ice carnival on the Collect 
Pond. The great snow that had fallen on Thanksgiving Day 
had fallen before the pond was frozen over, but the freezing 
had begun the very next day and, by the time of our party, the ice 
was firm as a rock and smooth as glass. On the Bunker Hill, 
to the northwest of the pond, we had set up a pavilion for 
supper with great bonfires blazing before the open side of the 
pavilion to keep it warm; and all around the pond flaring pine 
knots, in iron baskets set high on iron posts, made the glittering 
ice as light as day. In the pavilion, looking down upon the 
pond, were most of the matrons of New York society, and many 
of the older men: the Beekmans, the Kooseveldts, the Van 
Courtlandts, the Tappans, the Ludlows, the Mortons, the Stuy- 
vesants, the Van Eensselaers, the Bayards, were all there, and 
many more whose names I have forgotten; and below them, 
skimming over the ice like birds on the wing, were their sons 
and daughters, the ring of the metal keels on the clear ice mak- 
ing a musical accompaniment to silvery peals of laughter and 
merry shouts of glee. 

For two hours we skimmed the ice, in long slow curve, in 
straight swift glide, wheeling and darting, now forward, now 
back; no flock of swallows in the clear ether could have been 
more swift or graceful in their flight. And for much of those 
two hours, Mademoiselle’s little hand lay in mine, and often 
the others stopped to give us room and look at her, for she had 
learned in Paris that outward roll the Hollanders use, one foot 
lifted high and crossing the other, and sending her forward 
in great curving lines, now to the right and now to the left, 
that made her skating the very poetry of motion. I, too, knew 
the Dutch roll, so that I was no hindrance to her in her flights, 
and with her eyes darkened and glowing from the exercise, her 
rich fur cap set coquettishly on her bright curls, and the deep 
rose of her cheeks kindled by the keen air, I do not wonder that 
the others drew back to watch the lovely picture. 

There was chance, also, in that long two hours (which yet 
passed like the flash of a bird’s wing) to say many things to 
Mademoiselle; and some things she said in reply I can never 


360 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


forget. I think I almost made her confess (not in so many 
words, perhaps, but in language that seemed to me as plain as 
words) that had I been of her own country, she could have liked 
me well, and that it would be a sad day, indeed, when she 
should have to say good-by to me forever. 

I believe I found a melancholy pleasure in the thought that 
she secretly loved me and that it was only a stern fate that 
divided us, a pleasure that was almost as great as if there had 
been no barrier between us. Indeed, I believe that element of 
difficulty in love is a keen sharpener to the passion. I hugged 
to myself the cruel pang of my hopeless love and gloried in 
the pain. 

At six the ice carnival had begun, at eight we sat down to 
a table literally groaning with good things, and with appetites 
whetted by the keen air and exercise, and spirits brimming 
over from the swift racing of the blood in our veins. Nor, 
indeed, did the chaperones and the older men, who had not the 
excuse of skating, seem a whit less hungry or less brimming 
with spirits than we younger ones. They were full of stories 
and amiable banter of any two young people they fancied were 
specially interested in each other. I had my share of the 
banter, and if I had been quite sure Miss Desloge did not 
mind it, I would have liked it well; for just to have my name 
coupled with hers, even if not openly spoken, seemed to me to 
be another link to bind us together. 

Ogden sat on the other side of Miss Desloge at supper, and 
Ogden had been one of the young men who, at the Livingston 
ball, had danced often with her, and who was forever hover- 
ing about her on the ice before supper, seizing every opportu- 
nity of skating with her. Now I liked Ogden well, and I knew I 
had no right to monopolize Miss Desloge, but I did not like 
to hear him say, a Mademoiselle, may I have one more spin 
after supper? Those pine knots will last just about long 
enough for twice round the pond.” 

“ Mademoiselle is to skate with me after supper,” I inter- 
posed boldly. 

I had not asked her, for I had not thought there would 


I WEAB MY HAT IN THE PIT 


361 


be any more skating, nor did I say that she had promised me, 
whereby I saved myself from the form of a lie but not, I fear 
from its substance. 

Mademoiselle looked at me, round-eyed with astonishment, 
but she would not betray me to Ogden. She turned to him 
sweetly : 

“ If, as you say, Mr. Ogden, there will be time for skating 
twice around the pond, I will skate once with you and once 
with Sir Lionel." 

And then to punish me, I think, for the liberty I had taken, 
she devoted herself to Ogden for the rest of the supper hour. 
But if she thought I was suffering from my punishment she 
was mistaken. I was elated. She had not betrayed me — 
she must care a little to be so careful of my self-respect. She 
had given me the last round — perhaps that could be pro- 
longed into two if the pine knots lasted. 

Moreover, an idea had flashed into my mind, and I had 
taken a sudden resolve. It was all nonsense that Mademoiselle 
would not marry me simply because I was not a Frenchman. 
Of course she would prefer to marry one of her own country- 
men, just as I would prefer to marry an English lass, all else 
being equal. But difference in nationality was no insuperable 
obstacle, and there was but one woman in the world for me. 
What weighed more with me than this difference was that I 
had not my father’s consent and I had promised to take no 
serious step without it. My idea was that this weighed most 
with Mademoiselle, also. I had once told her of my promise 
to my father, and her pride would not permit her to encourage 
me without his consent. Well, my resolve was taken. I would 
write that very night to my father, I would tell him all about 
Mademoiselle, her gentle breeding, evident to the merest 
stranger and proved by the way the New York gentry sought 
her, and the cruelty of her position with Miss Livingston. I 
did not doubt my father’s answer, and until then I would hold 
myself in patience. I would see her and enjoy to the utter- 
most every moment in her presence, but I would say no more 
to her of love and marriage until I had my father’s letter. 


362 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


And so engrossed was I in the making of this resolve, the 
thought of the letter I was to write, and still more of the 
answer and what was to follow, that I scarcely heeded Ogden 
and his devotion to Mademoiselle, and without a pang let them 
leave the table with only a word of excuse to me, and go down 
together to the pond. 

The night after the Ice Carnival, I had promised to go 
to the New Park Theater (which was so called, although it 
had been built for several years, to distinguish it from the 
old John Street Theater) with Irving and Dick McCall. Lewis 
Hallam the younger was to play Lord Oglesby. I had seen 
him in the character in London, but he was well worth seeing 
a second time, and, moreover, I had never been to the play in 
New York and I was curious to see the playhouse, the manner 
of setting the play and the audience. All New York would 
be there, Irving said, for this was Hallam's first appearance 
since his return from London, and he was a prime favorite 
with New Yorkers. 

I would have liked well to be going with Mademoiselle Des- 
loge but Ogden had been ahead of me, and the first thing that 
caught my eye as I entered the house was the stall where he 
and Kemble sat behind Miss Desloge and Miss Livingston. 
The house itself was an agreeable surprise ; I had not expected to 
find it comparing so favorably with our London playhouses. 
The stalls and boxes were a dazzling sight; I did not believe 
His Majesty's itself could present such a glittering circle of 
jeweled beauties, eyes ‘and gems alike flashing in the rays 
from a thousand tapers. 

As was the custom, we three, being gentlemen of quality, 
kept on our hats as we took our seats in the pit. Instantly 
from the galleries broke forth a bedlam of shouts : cc Off with 
the hats ! ” “ Take off your hats ! ” I removed mine hurriedly, 

abashed at being the object of such attention, and with Ma- 
demoiselle to see. So, also, did Irving and McCall, though with 
less haste. In a moment the shouts were turned to hisses. 
Could I but have made up my mind to brave the hisses all 
would have been well, but at the sound my blood boiled, and 


I WEAR MY HAT IK THE PIT 


363 


more hastily than I had removed it I put my hat on again 
with an air of bravado. 

“ Don’t do that ! ” Irving remonstrated. “ You’ll get into 
trouble. The hissing won’t last a minute and that will be the 
end of it.” 

“ For Heaven’s sake, take off your hat, man,” McCall urged, 
but I was stubborn, and before either of them could utter 
another word of warning the storm broke: oaths, cat-calls, 
cries of “ Curse his British impudence ! ” “ Down with the 

Lords ! ” “ Knock off his hat ! ” came from all over the house. 

And then, suddenly, from behind me some man did knock it 

off. 

I sprang to my feet, blind with rage, and saw the man who 
had done it seated behind me and smiling good-humoredly. 
I believe now that he did it with the amiable idea of putting 
a stop to the uproar, and saving me from further persecution. 
But I did not believe so then. 

“ Pick up that hat ! ” I ordered, speaking quietly but with 
every pulse quivering. 

The man laughed. 

“ Sit down, youngster,” he said, still good-naturedly, “ and 
keep quiet; the curtain’s just going up.” 

For answer I sprang at his throat. He was a big man 
but I never thought of that. I thought of nothing but that 
my father’s son, the son of an English gentleman, was being 
bullied and jeered at, and made a laughing-stock for all Ameri- 
cans in the presence of Mademoiselle ! 

A roar of laughter from the galleries, and some of it from 
the pit, had greeted the knocking off of my hat; a wild uproar 
burst forth all over the house as I sprang at the man’s throat. 
I had a confused sense that every man in the house was on 
his feet, that some were crying, “ Kill him ! ” “ Kill the 

Britisher ! ” and others were shouting : “ For shame ! ” 

u Order ! ” “ Let the gentleman alone ! ” 

The man himself was dazed for a moment at my sudden 
onslaught, but when, seizing him by the collar with one hand, 
with the other I dealt him a resounding slap on his cheek 


364 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


he came to himself and, springing to his feet, grappled with 
me fiercely. He was powerfully built and in the end, no 
doubt, I would have fared badly, had we been left to our- 
selves, but Irving and McCall sprang to my rescue, and a dozen 
men from all sides rushed in to separate us. 

Panting and helpless in the grasp of my friends I saw, 
through the red haze that bleared my eyes like blood, two 
officers force their way through the crowd to my side. They 
were in uniform and they carried heavy clubs. For one wild 
moment I thought of resisting them; I could not bear the 
ignominy of being arrested and carried off to jail as a common 
disturber of the peace under the eyes of all those gay people, 
to most of whom I was very well known. Oh, why try to 
deceive myself ! At that moment I cared not the flip of my 
finger for all New York and its gay, society. It was Ma- 
demoiselle Desloge that I could not bear to be witness to my 
disgrace. 

But it was only for a moment that I thought of resisting. 
My better sense returned to me. I knew how useless any re- 
sistance would be, and summoning all my fortitude, with lifted 
head, but with eyes looking neither to the right nor to the 
left, I was marched off between the two officers, through a 
jeering throng, to the outside of the theater. And my old 
retreat, the Bridewell, being but a stone’s throw across the 
square, I was hurried into it once more. 

I had lost Irving and McCall in the throng, but I had been 
in the Bridewell but a few minutes, when they came hurrying 
in with Kemble and Ogden, whom they had brought to go on 
my bond. 

“No one in New York would regard my bond as worth the 
paper it was written on,” laughed Irving, “but Kemble, here, 
is a staid old fellow, and a man of property besides ; for does n’t 
he own Cockloft Hall in his own right ? ” 

Professing to regard the whole matter as a huge joke and 
trying to laugh me out of my desperate mood, they went 
through the necessary formalities to get me out of the Bride- 
well (each one of them, I believe, binding himself over to see 


I WEAR MY HAT IN THE PIT 


365 


that I kept the peace). They were for persuading me to re- 
turn to the play, but to that I would not listen for a moment; 
neither was I deceived by their kindly pretense of making light 
of my escapade — I had disgraced myself and my friends, and 
if the opportunity had been given me to set sail for England 
that night, never to see New York or any of its people again, 
I would not have hesitated for a moment. 

Nor would I hear of any one of the four returning with me 
to the City Tavern. Kemble and Ogden, of course, must go 
back to the ladies; Irving and McCall should return to the 
theater; and as for me, I was tired and would seek my bed. 
And heeding no remonstrances, I called a pony chair and bade 
them good-night. 

But there was no good night for me. Motionless in an 
easy chair, where I had thrown myself as I entered my room, 
my head sunk on my breast, my arms hanging listlessly at my 
side, I sat for hours in such agony of soul as only a sensitive 
spirit overwhelmed with a flood of shame can know. Ma- 
demoiselle was lost to me forever ! Of that I was as certain 
as if I had heard her saying so to me in that voice that thrilled 
me always like the lower ’cello tones I so loved. I was no 
better than any low-born brawler in her sight. She would 
think, no doubt, that I had been drinking; perhaps that it was 
my custom to engage in brawls of the kind. She would never 
want to see me again ! 

My fire had long been out and I was chilled to the bone 
when, sometime in the early morning hours, I roused myself 
from my stupor. I sprang to my feet and began pacing my 
room with rapid strides to restore the circulation to my numbed 
limbs. And with returning action came returning courage. 
All need not be lost, irretrievably. I would go to Mademoiselle ; 
I would make my humble apologies. I would bewail my pas- 
sionate temper that had led me astray, but I would plead in 
extenuation that it was because I had felt my country reviled 
in my person that I had gone so wild with rage. 

And as the rushing words in which I was to plead my cause 
came racing into my mind, faster and faster I walked, and 


366 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


lighter and lighter grew my heart, until, at last, I found my- 
self picturing with delight the sweetness of her voice and smile 
when she should utter her forgiving words and take me back 
into her favor. 

The old moon, the pale ghost of that glorious orb that had 
lighted us on our ride from Marriner's, was peering in my 
eastern windows (a sign that dawn was near) when I lay down 
on my bed in a happier frame of mind than I had believed, 
six hours before, I would ever know again. “ Mademoiselle is 
an angel ! She will forgive ! 99 was the burden of my thoughts 
as I fell asleep, and the refrain of my dreams through all my 
troubled slumber. 

At five o'clock the next afternoon, having with Scipio's aid 
(Scipio had now become my permanent valet, devoted to me 
body and soul) made a more careful toilet, or rather a more 
anxious one, than was my habit, I walked down the Broadway 
to the Livingston Mansion. It was an hour at which I was 
quite sure dinner would be over and I might hope to find Made- 
moiselle at home. It was only a short w r alk, but hope and 
dread, fear and courage, a faint heart and a bold one, made it 
seem interminable. 

With each of these mingled emotions struggling for ascend- 
ency, I lifted the heavy brass knocker of the Livingston door 
and let it fall. To my excited imagination it gave forth a 
sound, so loud and long, with such ghostly echoes, as might 
have waked the dead, and I blushed for my rudeness in not 
having let it fall more gently, as was proper, I knew, in calling 
on a lady ; and most befitting a call of penitence. 

Yet bold as had been my summons it received no immediate 
answer, which surprised me, since I was familiar with the quick 
and ready service required in the Livingston mansion. I was 
just about to try the knocker once more, when the door was 
opened by the same sleepy black who had opened it for me on 
Thanksgiving morning, but this time he wore no livery, which 
was another surprise. 

As he opened the door I caught a glimpse of the wide hall and 
of the two great rooms on either side. Pictures, Gobelin tapes- 


I WEAR MY HAT IN THE PIT 


367 


tries, ornaments in bronze and Sevres, of which the house was 
full, sent home by Mr. Livingston from Paris; chairs, sofas, 
lusters hanging from the ceiling, and sconces on the wall, were 
all shrouded in ghostly white. I knew very well what the an- 
swer to my question would be before I asked it: 

“ Are the ladies at home ? ” I said. 

“No, sah, dey leP foh Clermon* dis mohnin’ by de Albany 
Post, sah.” 

“ Do you know when they will return ? ” 

“Not zackly, sah. Not till after Christmas, nohow. Mebbe 
not all winter.” 


XXIX 


A LITTLE ESQUIMAU 

I HAVE sometimes wondered what would have become of me 
if I had gone back to the City Tavern and spent that 
evening alone in my room. I was in a desperate mood. Black 
despair was in my heart and such a sense of shame as, of all 
the emotions, is the hardest for the youthful soul to endure. 
I believed I had disgraced myself irretrievably — Mademoiselle’s 
going away proved it. And added to all the black burden of 
shame and mortification, my soul was seething with an un- 
reasoning anger against her that she should have gone away 
without giving me a chance to reinstate myself. 

I was in such a desperate mood that when I reached my room 
and found there a note awaiting me from Mr. Burr, inviting 
me to spend the night at Bichmond Hill, I had no thought, 
for the moment, of accepting his invitation. I had called 
Scipio to be in readiness to take my answer, and my note re- 
gretting the necessity of declining was half written when I let 
my quill fall (making a huge blot on my paper) and began 
on an entirely new vein of thought. 

It was not the part of a man, I said to myself, to allow him- 
self to be crushed by any blow, however severe. It was a man’s 
place to mold circumstance, not to be molded by it. I had 
made a mistake in giving way to my temper at the theater most 
childishly, as I could now see, but to sit down and sulk was 
only being still more childish. I had made a misstep. I would 
retrieve it to the best of my ability. 

Mr. Burr’s invitation, if I was to accept it, needed no an- 
swer, therefore I tore up the half-written note and in place of 
it, wrote a brief, and what I hoped was a manly, explanation 
and apology to Mademoiselle, in which I said those things I 

368 


A LITTLE ESQUIMAU 


369 


had planned to say to her in person during my call. The post 
for Albany would not leave again for three days, but once hav- 
ing determined on the letter I could not postpone the writing 
of it for a moment, and once written, sealed and addressed, I 
set out for Richmond Hill with a sense of relief from an in- 
tolerable burden, and with more of zest for my anticipated 
visit than I could have expected. 

It seemed that Mr. Burr had arrived in New York from 
Washington the day before. I did not, at first, connect my 
invitation from him with my escapade at the theater, but later 
I learned that he had been present; and I believe that he had 
divined the acuteness of my mortification, and that it was 
from generosity, sympathy and benevolence that he had ex- 
tended his invitation. 

Mr. Burr had fascinated me from the first moment of my 
acquaintance with him. His boyish figure and dark, smiling 
eyes, the wonderful variety and breadth of his information, 
and a certain winning trick of speech had proved irresistible 
to me. Yet often when I was away from his direct influence, 
when I could think and judge of him calmly, I was not sure 
he was a man to be trusted; and I had never given him credit 
for the amiability, the genuine goodness of heart, that his 
thoughtfulness for me in my hour of distress showed. Later, 
with all the world, my heart was full of anger toward him, 
but still later, when I thought of him, a wanderer and almost 
an outcast, as he was for many years, with no man speaking 
good of him, I remembered his kindness to a friendless lad — 
for so I imagined myself at that moment to be — and I could 
not believe him to be all bad. 

He was very brilliant that evening with none but me and a 
young Mr. Van Ness to hear or appreciate. He had many 
tales to tell us of his life in Paris, and then we fell to dis- 
cussing the poets we loved, Wordsworth and Coleridge, and 
Southey and Burns, Cowper and Gray and the older ones. He 
had something wise and witty to say of each one, and he paid 
me the compliment of listening with apparent pleasure to all 
I had to say of them in return. 

24 


370 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


In the course of the evening he said he must start for Wash- 
ington the day after New Year’s. Business of importance had 
called him away from the capital (I believed it was political 
business, for I had heard that he was hard at work laying all 
his plans for the spring campaign for the office of governor), 
but that it would be absolutely necessary that he should be 
back as soon after the opening of the year as possible, and he 
invited me to go with him. 

I was in a frame of mind to clutch at a straw like that. 
Mademoiselle Desloge, I believed, would not be back in New 
York until the winter was over — what was the gay little city 
to me without her? But, more than that, I would be glad to 
get away from everyone I knew, glad to hide my diminished 
head among strangers in a strange city. I would have gone 
even more gladly if it had been on the morrow we were 
to start. As Mr. Van Ness was not in the room when the in- 
vitation was given, I did not hesitate to express to Mr. Burr 
something of my feeling on the matter, and he spoke to me 
of my experience of the night before. 

“ I was present and saw it all,” he said, “ but you ought 
not to take it so to heart. It has happened to many a young 
blood before, and all who saw understood it perfectly. You 
may be sure that if there were any of your friends present, 
and there were many of them, I know, their sympathies were 
with you and not with the rabble.” 

“ I should have supposed so,” I answered, somewhat bitterly, 
'‘but I have seen but little evidence of it.” 

“ What ! ” he exclaimed, “ were not Irving; Kemble, McCall 
and Ogden all that was kind and friendly? Did they not come 
to your rescue at once?” 

“ Oh, yes,” I answered indifferently, “ I can always rely on 
the Lads of Kilkenny.” 

“ Ah, you refer, I suppose, to Miss Livingston and Miss 
Desloge and their abrupt departure for Clermont ? ” 

I had not supposed he knew of it, and I was silent, not 
knowing what to say, for it was their silence and their sudden 
departure that I resented so keenly. 


A LITTLE ESQUIMAU 


371 


“ Sir Lionel / 5 said Mr. Burr, after waiting a moment for a 
reply from me and getting none, “let me give you a maxim 
culled from much experience with the fair sex and their ways: 
Never think you understand them, even when their actions seem 
to speak the loudest. Never despair! In affairs of the heart 
more than in any other — Perseverantia omnia vincit! But, 
moreover, I would add for your encouragement, she who runs 
away, runs because she knows her heart is in danger. Had she 
not feared you she would have been indifferent to you and 
stuck to her guns . 55 

He spoke jestingly, but somehow his words inspired me with 
courage. We spoke no more of Miss Desloge, but I found my- 
self for the rest of the evening in a much better frame of mind 
to enjoy his keen and witty observations on men and affairs. 
It was fully ten days later that I received Miss Desloge 5 s an- 
swer to my note, and by that time I had so often conned over 
to myself Mr. Burr 5 s words that they had become an integral 
part of my philosophy, and the note that might have 
angered me earlier, I now regarded as one of the feminine 
inexplicables, only to be interpreted by the light of fuller ex- 
perience. 

“ Sir Lionel , 55 it ran, “ You were quite right to call your 
behavior at the theater childish. If I were a man, I would 
not offer an ungovernable temper as an excuse for any such 
weakness. It is all right to possess temper; I have heard it 
makes a man strong, but to be possessed by it is all wrong and 
certainly an indication of weakness. There was a little excuse, 
as you say, because you considered your nation insulted in 
your person. I can sympathize with that sense of loyalty to 
one’s country, but I believe its manifestation was a mistake; 
it helped to win respect neither for your nation nor its repre- 
sentative. The whole trouble, of course, came from wearing 
your hat. If you will insist on claiming the privileges of an 
aristocrat in a democratic country you must take the conse- 
quences ; but I hope next time you will take them good- 
naturedly. The rabble is easily controlled by imperturbable 


372 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


good-humor, but is as easily aroused by a display of resentment, 
and once roused is an ugly beast to deal with. 

“Now, I fear this sounds like a lecture. Eegard it so, if 
you like, but remember it is only one who has a friend’s interest 
at heart who dares presume to lecture. 

“Your little Esquimau.” 

Now there was much in this note to inflame a quick temper, 
and I felt mine flashing in waves of blood to my temples as I 
read, but when I came to the signature, my pulses stood still. 
My “ little Esquimau ! ” She must have known I had used 
those words as a term of endearment in our game of blind man’s 
buff. Was she willing to accept the title? If so, she accepted 
all it signified, and for a while I was in a turmoil of mingled 
hope and uncertainty, keenest delight and chilling doubt. 

I came to my senses at last by recalling Mr. Burr’s words — 
“ Never think you understand a woman, even when her actions 
seem to speak loudest.” No doubt Miss Desloge had used the 
title jestingly, to show me that her lecture was not so for- 
midable as it sounded. At any rate, I was not going to rear a 
mighty structure of hope on such a slim foundation. I an- 
swered the note, as I thought necessary — in any correspond- 
ence the lady should never be allowed to be the last to write — 
and I thanked her for the lecture, which I believed was well 
intended and I hoped taken in good part. I pledged myself 
to try to profit by it, and I hoped hereafter to prove myself the 
possessor of a temper, not possessed by one. 

All that was very cool and didactic — it meant nothing but 
the commonplaces of polite usage. But I audaciously began 
my note, “ My dear Little Esquimau,” and I signed myself, 
“ Faithfully yours, Lionel Marchmont.” 

I had not expected an answer to this, and I did not receive 
one. Christmas was at hand, New Year’s would follow quickly, 
and the day after New Year’s I was to start for Washington. 
When would I ever see Miss Desloge again? If only Miss 
Livingston would take it into her head, or rather her heart, 
to invite me up to Clermont to spend the Yuletide. I watched 


A LITTLE ESQUIMAU 


373 


each Albany post day with longing, but no such summons came. 
Instead, there came an invitation from Mrs. Hamilton to come 
out to the Grange on Christmas Eve and spend Christmas and 
the day following. I arrived, like a veritable Santa Claus, 
with my sleigh piled high with toys for the children, for I had 
learned that in America the German fashion of celebrating 
Christmas with gifts prevailed rather than our English cus- 
toms. I found the house decorated with holly and mistletoe, 
which looked more like home to me than anything I had seen 
in America, but I wondered where it came from, since I had 
seen none growing in the country. Mr. Hamilton had had a 
barrel of it shipped from his native Carribees, he said, and that 
evening, the house being full of a gay party of young people 
from the city, all of whom I knew well, I kissed, at various 
times, at least six maidens under the great branch of mistletoe 
that hung suspended from the middle luster in the long draw- 
ing-room. One of the six was Angelica, and I was sorry, the 
moment after, that I had done it; for she flushed scarlet and 
then turned pale, and I caught Mr. Hamilton eyeing me keenly, 
as if he had noted her signs of distress and liked it not. She 
was the apple of his eye ; never have I seen father and daughter 
in such perfect sympathy (unless, indeed, I except Mr. Burr 
and his daughter), and while he was a fond father to all his 
children, toward her he showed ever a peculiar tenderness. 

I was sorry I had kissed Angelica, since neither father nor 
daughter was pleased thereby, and yet it was not a thing to 
apologize for, not only had I kissed many others in the gay 
romp of the evening, but Mr. Hamilton himself had neg- 
lected no chance to steal a kiss from any young and pretty 
maiden who happened inadvertently to stand for a moment 
under the mistletoe. Indeed, never had I seen him in such gay 
spirits. He was down on all fours to let his youngest boy 
ride him as a horse when the, company arrived, and rose to his 
feet perfectly unabashed to greet them with all the grace of a 
courtier. He galloped through a country dance with a pretty 
Miss Bayard and led the Virginia reel (which was a new dance 
to me) with a stately Miss De Lancey. 


374 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


Mrs. Hamilton sat in a corner and talked with Mr. Troup 
and Gouverneur Morris, also home from Washington for the 
holidays, smiling with affected tolerance at all her husband’s 
pranks (I believe secretly they delighted her soul) ; and there 
was not a belle nor a beauty there but was prouder of his 
attentions and open admiration than if they had been from any 
of us younger men. How little any of us thought, he least of 
all, that this was to be his last Christmas. And what a blessed 
thing it is for all of us that the future is so closely veiled from 
us; that we cannot see even one step ahead. Had his wife 
and children known what lay scarcely six months ahead of them, 
there would have been nothing but anguish of soul for them 
at that happy Christmas tide; and, as it was, I believe it must 
ever be one of their most blessed memories — the joyous spirit 
with which he entered into all the innocent merriment of the 
season. 

Christmas Day, if not quite so hilarious as Christmas Eve, 
was full of delight. I was made one of the family with such 
cordiality as could not but touch the heart of a lad so far from 
home and just a little homesick at the Yuletide. The children 
shared their gifts with me and made me a partner in their 
games, and I, who had never had brothers or sisters, who am 
a great lover of children and yet had come but little into close 
contact with them, found this one of the keenest pleasures of 
the day. We spent the morning, or the better part of it, coast- 
ing down a hill so steep and long it quite took my breath away 
the first time I tried it, and I thought it a dangerous pastime 
for such young children. But Mr. Hamilton did not seem to 
think so, and still less did the children, to whom it was an old 
story and all its perils too familiar to daunt them. The joy 
of flying through the air down that steep descent with the 
swiftness of the wind would have lost half its zest to the chil- 
dren if their father had not shared it with them, and it was 
a marvel to me to see the great statesman, whose name 
was honored in every civilized nation on the globe, a boy among 
his children, and to all appearance, the happiest and most care- 
free of them all. 


A LITTLE ESQUIMAU 


375 


I was thoroughly tired, and Mr. Hamilton, I have no doubt, 
more so (though the children seemed as fresh as at the start), 
when Mrs. Hamilton sent a black boy to call us into the house. 
Such flaming cheeks and sparkling eyes! Even the fair, pale 
Angelica was all aglow, and more like a glorious rose than a 
delicate lily. It is the only time I ever remember to have seen 
her in the abandon of youthful glee, for it seemed to me al- 
ways that a sad and anxious soul dwelt in those somber young 
eyes. 

And if we had gathered roses on the snow hill, still more 
had we found a keen hunger. A glass of milk for the children 
and an eggnog served from an immense crystal punch bowl to 
the older ones, was all Mrs. Hamilton would allow us to dull 
the edge of our hunger. She was not going to have her great 
Christmas dinner spoiled by any nibbling between meals. It 
was still an hour until dinner time and that, after all, proved 
almost the pleasantest hour of the long, delightful day. Mr. 
Hamilton invited me into his study. Angelica followed her 
father as a matter of course, but she sat on a low stool at his 
side and took no part in the conversation, only watching her 
father with rapt eyes that let no word he spoke, nor the slight- 
est change of his expression, escape her. 

I had found Mr. Burr brilliant and fascinating. I found 
Mr. Hamilton something better. Mr. Burr had talked of men 
and singled out their foibles with keen and caustic wit. Mr. 
Hamilton talked not of men but of measures. He was full of 
great ideas of broad statesmanship, and as he talked I saw 
the whole political world of Europe and America laid out be- 
fore me as a map. I saw more clearly than I had ever before 
seen, the causes, reaching back hundreds of years, for our per- 
petual quarrel with France. I saw Bonaparte’s motives laid 
bare in every move he had made, and I saw the mistakes on 
our side. Especially did he show me the vital defect in the 
Orders of Council, which were new then, and which all Eng- 
land believed were to prove most efficacious, but which all 
England was not long in discovering bore more hardly on the 
farmer and merchant at home than they possibly could on any 


376 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


foreigner. It was a marvelous mind of whose powers I was 
permitted a moment’s glimpse, and that hour before dinner 
will always remain one of the proudest of my life, that so great 
a statesman should think it worth while to squander his wealth 
of ideas on so young a man. 

It may be that I did not see Mr. Burr at his best; it may 
be he did not consider me worthy of his best, but the conversa- 
tion that had appeared to me so brilliant, as I listened to it 
that evening at Richmond Hill, seemed to me now as glittering 
tinsel in contrast with the rich and mighty flow of thought I 
listened to that Christmas morning. And I came to the con- 
clusion that Mr.- Burr was a brilliant politician, but Mr. Hamil- 
ton was a great statesman. Of course, I have long since known 
that so the judgment of the world has classed the two men, 
but I have always been a little proud to think that I discovered 
it for myself before I knew the judgment of the world. 

I left the Grange the next morning, feeling that I had known 
and loved this family for years, and nothing could have been 
kinder and more cordial than the way in which they tried to 
persuade me that I had given them more pleasure than they 
had given me. I hardly dared to ask so great a man to visit 
my father at Clover Combe Court, but when I found courage 
to urge a request I had begun to set my heart on (I longed to 
have my father know Mr. Hamilton and hardly less did I want 
him to know Mrs. Hamilton, for my father was ever a lover of 
a charming woman), when I found the courage to utter all this, 
Mr. Hamilton sighed or pretended to. 

“It has been the dream of my life. Sir Lionel,” he said, “ to 
take Mrs. Hamilton to England some day, and to Scotland, the 
land of my forebears, but I stayed in public life too long. A 
man who devotes himself to the welfare of his country must 
necessarily neglect the welfare of his family. I am a poor man ; 
but I have left public life now for good and I am attending 
strictly to my own business, and in a very few years, if health 
and strength are spared, I hope to be able to take my wife and 
my seven children abroad. Will your invitation hold good for 
such a distance in time and for such an army of guests ? ” 


A LITTLE ESQUIMAU 


377 


He laughed his boyish laugh as he finished speaking. 

“ For all time and for as many as you will bring,” I answered. 
“ The more you bring the better pleased my father and I 
will be.” 

The rest of that Christmas week passed in a round of festivi- 
ties. The city was a little Paris in its gay social life. I had 
hardly time to think of Mademoiselle, and yet there was never 
a dinner or a ball but I watched eagerly to see if by some 
happy chance I might not see Miss Livingston and Miss Des- 
loge among the arriving guests. But I looked in vain. New 
Year’s day arrived and on the very next morning I was to start 
for Washington with Mr. Burr — it would be months, now, 
before I could hope to catch a glimpse of her, and in the mean- 
time what might not happen? Wherever she went, she was 
surrounded by eager admirers, who might at any moment be- 
come ardent suitors, and perhaps, at last, one of them a suc- 
cessful one. 

The Lads of Kilkenny were to spend New Year’s day in 
making calls together. It is a pretty custom that we do not 
have at home, and is a survival, I believe, from the old Dutch 
times, when New York was New Amsterdam. We were to 
make an early start, for there were many calls to be made, and 
promptly at ten o’clock the little procession of three carioles, 
gay with nodding plumes and rich fur robes and jingling bells, 
started from Tammany Hall, where we had all gathered. There 
were calls to be made on Williams Street and Queen Street, 
Wall, Broad and half a dozen other streets, to say nothing of 
calls at such villas as were not too distant on the Bowery and 
Bloomingdale Eoads. We were to leave the Broadway to the 
last, since it would be nearer home to most of us than the other 
streets. 

And thus it happened that it was growing quite dark, and 
the carioles, dashing up and down the Broadway at feverish 
speed, were many of them already lighted by flaring torches 
set in links in the dashboards, and our long list of calls was 
almost ended, when we drew up before the Livingston mansion. 
Now I had passed that house every evening since the sudden 


378 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


departure for Clermont, always hoping I might find it lighted 
and the owners returned; but always to find it cold and dark 
and the shutters closely barred. Now as I glanced up at the 
house with an idle wonder as to why we had stopped there, to 
my amazement it was a blaze of light from attic to cellar. 

Irving sat next to me in the cariole. 

“ Did you know they had returned ? ” I asked sharply. 

“Of course I knew it,” he answered; “we all knew it, but 
we were keeping it as a surprise for you. I hope you like our 
surprise ? ” 

He spoke with a laugh in his voice; he never doubted I 
would like it. But I was not so sure. Now that I knew that 
in another moment, in all probability, I would be ushered into 
her presence, I trembled and would have liked to run away. 
All New York had seemed to forget my escapade in the Park 
Theater, but I was not sure that she had forgotten it — or for- 
given it. Moreover, here had I been all day long driving 
through the frosty air, rushing into warm houses, talking a 
few minutes with pretty ladies in pretty frocks, sipping wine, 
or punch, or coffee, as the case might be, rushing out again 
through the keen air, into my furs and out of them, and it was 
impossible that I could look as fresh and immaculate as I would 
like to appear before her. Between the oft-repeated wine and 
the long day of driving through the keen air, face and eyes 
must be more or less flushed, and what with doffing of hat and 
coat and donning them again repeatedly, neither hair nor lace 
ruffles nor ribbons could help but be more or less disheveled. 
We had stopped twice for repairs during the day, once at Kem- 
ble’s house and once at my rooms in the City Tavern, and I 
wished we might go back to my rooms once more and get our- 
selves decently in order before making this last and most im- 
portant call. But there was no chance given me to propose 
it. Ogden and McCall and Kemble, who had been in the 
cariole ahead, were already on the steps and lifting the heavy 
brass knocker, which presently resounded up and down the 
street. 

“ Come on, lads ! ” Ogden shouted, and at the same instant 


A LITTLE ESQUIMAU 


379 


the door flew open and we must hasten lest we be so unmannerly 
as to keep the door standing wide for us and giving entrance 
to wintry blasts. 

In the hall, where we stopped to be helped out of our furs, 
I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror that hung above the 
table and was somewhat reassured. My cheeks were rcsy and 
my eyes were shining, but not from wine, I believed: I had 
taken little of it, fearing the effect of repeated draughts. 
It was the keen air that had set them glowing, or, perhaps, 
the excitement of anticipation. My curls were somewhat dis- 
ordered, but I thought not unbecomingly so, and my ruffles 
were in better condition than I could have hoped. I had made 
a swift resolution while I was getting out of my furs and 
straightening curls and ruffles — I would be the last to enter, 
and I would carry it off with a brave face ; neither Mademoiselle, 
nor the keenly critical Miss Livingston, should be able to guess 
how my pulses were leaping and my nerves quivering. 

Fortunately, I thought, there were a number of other ladies 
receiving with Miss Livingston and Miss Desloge, enough to 
keep the other men engaged and give me a chance to speak 
to Miss Desloge alone. I purposely left her for the last, that 
I might take all the time I wanted. 

I fancied there was the slightest shade of embarrassment in 
her manner as she swept me a curtsy in response to my low bow. 

“ A happy New Year to you, Mademoiselle,” I said. 

“ May you be happy, also — and successful ! ” she returned. 

I thought her last two words were an afterthought, but they 
were none the less pleasant to hear. 

“ I shall not be happy unless I am successful,” I replied with 
a glance whose meaning she could not mistake. “But tell 
me, please, do the inhabitants of the Arctic regions always 
drop down on their friends in this unexpected fashion? Why 
did you not let me know you intended to return ? ” 

A quick wave of color showed she understood. I could not 
tall her “ my little Esquimau ” in public, but I boldly reminded 
her that I still claimed her so. 

“If you mean Miss Livingston and myself by ‘ inhabitants 


380 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


of the Arctic regions/ " she said quickly, “ we must plead guilty, 
I fear, to a liking to surprise our friends." 

“ No, I did not include Miss Livingston," I murmured, look- 
ing straight into her eyes; “ there is only one woman in the 
world to whom I would give that title." 

“ It sounds a cold and frigid one," she answered with a 
saucy smile; “I hope that ‘only' woman does not shiver when 
she hears it." 

“ I hope not, indeed," I answered ; “ I would be sorry to have 
her grow any colder than she has already proved herself. But, 
Miss Desloge, I am very sure my time is limited; five minutes 
has been the length of most of our calls to-day and the five 
minutes is more than up. I want to tell you seriously how 
hurt and disappointed I am that you did not let me know you 
were to return at the New Year." 

“ Can it make much difference ? " she asked with adorable 
shyness. “We are to be here all winter." 

“ Worse and worse ! " I groaned. 

“Why?" 

“ I leave to-morrow to be gone all winter." 

I could not be mistaken, she turned pale for a moment, and 
for a moment she was silent. Then she said softly : 

“ Could you not delay your departure, for a few days at 
least ? " 

“I am promised to set out for Washington with the Vice- 
president to-morrow morning," I answered her gloomily. “ I 
do not see how I can break an engagement with him at this 
late hour." 

She was silent again as if trying to plan something, which 
she gave up finally. 

“Well," she said at last, with a little sigh of resignation, 
“ 'T is the fate of all surprisers to be themselves the surprised 
ones, and not always agreeably. But your calls must be finished 
by this hour. You will at least stay and spend the evening 
with us ? " 

I shook my head and glanced at a large gilt clock on the 
mantel. 


A LITTLE ESQUIMAU 


381 


“ In five minutes, according to that French time-piece yonder, 
we are to start for Cockloft Hall, where the Lads of Kilkenny 
are to spend the first night of the New Year together.” 

“ Miss Livingston,” said Miss Desloge, raising her voice a 
little to call the attention of Miss Livingston, who stood a little 
ways from her talking to Kemble, “ Sir Lionel is very anxious 
to see that century plant just coming into bloom in the con- 
servatory. May I show it to him ? ” 

“ Certainly,” said Miss Livingston, regarding me curiously 
and bestowing on me an enigmatical smile. 

“ I will give you just five minutes, Green,” Kemble called 
to me as we turned toward the conservatory. “ In five minutes 
we start for Cockloft Hall, you know.” 

In the conservatory I barely glanced at the century plant. 

“Well?” I said, turning to Mademoiselle. 

“Do not go to Cockloft Hall,” she said, looking up at me, 
her soft brown eyes full of gentle pleading. 

It was what I was longing to do, to stay with her this last 
evening in New York and give up the night of roystering it 
was sure to prove at Cockloft Hall. But I steeled my heart. 
She was asking much. Would she give as much? 

“ Mademoiselle,” I said, “ it is asking a great deal, is it not, 
to ask me to break an engagement with a party of friends who 
are depending on me?” 

“ It is a test of friendship,” she urged softly. 

“ It is more, Mademoiselle,” I answered boldly ; “ it is a proof 
of love. And it is a proof I am very willing to give you, if you 
will accept it.” 

She hesitated long before she answered, and I, watching her 
keenly, took it as a favorable sign. When had she ever hesi- 
tated before? She had always been quick enough heretofore 
with her — “I will never marry anyone but one of my own 
countrymen ” — was she going to change that now ? My heart 
fras going like a trip hammer, but outwardly I was calm enough. 
Never had she looked so beautiful to me — her light dress, of 
palest green and silver, and her wonderful red gold hair, 
brought out vividly by the dark background of palms and 


382 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


camellia plants, her long lashes lying on her softly rounded 
cheek where the color was coming and going and the scarlet 
bow of her lips slightly parted to let the quick breath through. 
I could see she was strongly moved. Never before had I seen 
in her such signs of emotion, and I gathered hope with every 
waiting second. But at last she lifted her eyes and looked at 
me sadly. 

“I see,” she said slowly, “you must go to Cockloft Hall,” 
and sighed as she spoke. 

It was my turn to let my eyes fall and be silent for a mo- 
ment. I could not let her see the bitter disappointment I knew 
they betrayed. But in a moment I had myself well under 
control. 

“ Very well. Mademoiselle,” I said lightly, “ it is as you 
decree.” 

“ Time ’s up ! ” called Kemble’s voice from the drawing-room. 

“ Coming ! ” I called in return, and turned toward the draw- 
ing-room as I spoke. 

“But surely you are not going without saying good-by,” 
Mademoiselle exclaimed quickly, coming toward me with ex- 
tended hand, anxiety, regret, sorrow, shyness, daring — many 
mingled emotions in her soft brown eyes. 

I took her hand in both of mine: 

“ No, Mademoiselle, I am not going without saying good-by. 
I would not be going at all did you not decree it. But it is 
not * Good-by, Mademoiselle,’ it is ‘ Au revoir — my little 
Esquimau.’ ” 

And as I spoke I looked straight into her eyes, defiance in 
my glance. 

Her eyes fell beneath my glowing look, her whole form 
drooped, but she would not utter one word. 

I lifted to my lips the hand I was still holding between both 
of mine, and as I dropped it I offered her my arm, formally. 

“ Shall we go back to the drawing-room, Mademoiselle ? ” X 
said. 


XXX 


CAPTAIN SKINNER REAPPEARS 

M R. BURR was at the gates of Cockloft Hall in his cariole 
the next morning at eleven. On horseback, behind, rode 
Scipio leading Saladin ; for we had driven out to Cockloft Hall 
in our sleighs the night before, and Scipio and Saladin were 
both to go with me to Washington. 

AVe were to stop two days in Philadelphia: I to make a 
promised visit to Lloyd, Mr. Burr to visit some young lady in 
whom, for the time being (for I had heard his affections were 
fickle), he was most deeply interested. I had been wretchedly 
unhappy, in leaving Hew York, at the thought that I was 
leaving Mademoiselle behind me for the whole long winter, 
but now that my face was really set toward my journey’s end, 
my spirits rose with the eagerness of youth for new scenes and 
untried experiences. 

I was particularly eager to make this little visit to Lloyd 
in his own home, and never did I spend two days more delight- 
fully. His family lived in a great house on Sixth Street, and 
there was every evidence of immense wealth in the home, its 
furnishings, equipages, horses, and black servants without num- 
ber. I had found nothing finer in Hew York than their man- 
ner of living, and yet there was a difference, which I suppose 
was due to the difference between the two cities. The Phila- 
delphia establishment seemed to me less ostentatious. It im- 
pressed me not so much with its magnificence as with its quiet 
elegance. 

But it was Lloyd’s family that impressed me most and de- 
lighted me greatly. His father must have been, in his youth, 
another such man as his son, and even in his advanced years 
and broken health he was still a magnificent ruin, with a fine 

383 


384 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


manner that is an inheritance, or a gift of the gods — it comes 
not by training. His mother was still beautiful and the 
gentlest speaking creature I have ever known, which I suppose 
was due to her Quaker blood, for though she dressed richly, it 
was in soft grays and drabs, and she used the pretty “ thee ” 
and “thou” of the Friends. His two sisters were not yet 
“ out,” and, of course, they were shy in talking to a young man, 
though they were without the awkwardness I have sometimes 
noted in our girls at home, not yet out of the schoolroom. I 
was sure they would both be beauties and belles when they 
were once in society, for both were as beautiful as Lloyd was 
handsome, with the same brilliant coloring in hair and com- 
plexion. It was evident they idolized their big brother, and 
when they had overcome their first shyness they had many 
tales to tell me of his prowess and his goodness. 

They were all so kind to me (for Lloyd's sake) they would 
hardly let me go when my two days were up, and indeed it 
was with real regret I tore myself away. I would have liked 
much to make a longer visit and I gladly promised them an- 
other and a longer one before I should return to England. 

We made rapid progress for the rest of our way to Washing- 
ton, changing horses frequently, and pushing on so rapidly 
that late the first night out from Philadelphia we reached 
Baltimore and put up at the Fountain Hotel. It was mid- 
night when we arrived, but they were expecting Mr. Burr, and 
we sat down at that late hour to a dinner of canvasback duck, 
terrapin and oysters, famous Baltimore dishes, cooked and 
served in a wonderful style such as I never expect to see or 
taste again. 

Mr. Burr and Lloyd had both prepared me for a Washington 
of huts, barracks, and mud flats, but it was a little more for- 
lorn than I had expected to find it. Yet among the huts and 
barracks there were a few palaces, and many delightful people, 
some of whom I had met before. My old acquaintance, Mr. 
Gouverneur Morris, was there in the senate, supplementing 
whatever the Vice-president left undone in the way of intro- 
ductions and attentions, though I am bound to say Mr. Burr 


CAPTAIN SKINNER REAPPEARS 


385 


was a most considerate and attentive friend. I was not his 
gnest in Washington. It had seemed to me best to find quarters 
in an inn, where I could be more independent than in the home 
of a friend, and I had found comfortable rooms in the very 
tavern where Lloyd had put up during his brief visit to Wash- 
ington the winter before, to which he had recommended me, 
and particularly to the good graces of an old negro factotum of 
the inn, Bandy Jim. When Bandy Jim learned that I knew 
“ Marse Lloyd,” and was the bearer of messages from him, he 
became my devoted slave on the spot, adopted Scipio as his son, 
and nothing in the hotel or out of it, that he could lay hands 
on, was too good for Scipio or his master. 

My two months in Washington, which I had looked forward 
to with some dread, fled rapidly. I was daily meeting dis- 
tinguished men and charming women; there were balls and 
dinners to pass the evenings; there were always the sessions 
of Congress to absorb the hours of the morning. I was often 
at the presidential palace for dinner, for the President seemed 
to have taken a liking to me, perhaps because I was the bearer 
of a letter of introduction to him from Lloyd — for no one 
ever met Lloyd without liking him. 

Mr. Jefferson was a great lover of horses and took his regular 
exercise on horseback every morning, and several times, at his 
invitation, I accompanied him. On the first of these rides, I 
noticed him eyeing Saladin curiously, but it did not for a time 
occur to me that Saladin had been his gift to William Jay 
from his own stables in Monticello, sent to William, I heard 
afterwards, for the sake of his mother, whom the President 
greatly admired. 

“You have a fine horse, I see,” Mr. Jefferson said, when we 
were riding that first morning out toward Georgetown, a pretty 
village on the heights, with some fine residences. 

‘'Yes, sir,” I answered, “but he does not belong to me; he 
is loaned me by a friend.” 

“ Ah ! ” he said. “ Your friend must love you much, or 
trust you greatly, to lend you so fine an animal.” 

“ I hope both, sir,” I answered. “ But my friend is still 
25 


386 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


a boy and the horse was unbroken when he received it, and 
his friends thought him too young to ride it until it was thor- 
oughly used to control.” 

“ And you broke it for him ? ” he asked with such interest 
that the reason began to dawn upon me. 

“Yes, your excellency,” I said, and then broke off suddenly. 
“Why, it was you, sir, who gave the horse to young William 
Jay ! I had forgotten it entirely ! ” I exclaimed. And then I 
blushed. 

“ I hope you do not mind my appropriating your gift. It is 
only until William shall be able to ride it for himself, which 
will be very soon now.” 

The President’s face brightened into a very pleasant smile. 

“ I not only do not mind, but I am glad it happened so. It 
gives me a chance to see Saladin again and to be quite satisfied 
with the way in which he has come to mind bit and bridle. 
I had some qualms, after sending him to the lad, for I think 
I should not have sent him until he was well broken. I have 
no doubt his Aunt Kitty was quite indignant with me; she has 
a little temper of her own.” 

“Not only his Aunt Kitty, but all his female relatives, I 
believe, sir,” I answered soberly. 

The President laughed. 

“Well, you have no doubt reconciled all the sisters and the 
cousins and the aunts to my gift by this time. You must 
have a talent for the breaking of colts, for I can see that Saladin 
is remarkably well broken.” 

I was much pleased and greatly flattered. My horseman- 
ship is the one accomplishment of which I dare to be vain. I 
believe it was the one thing that made the President show such 
an interest in me, inviting me frequently to the palace, where 
I met all the men of note of the day and most of the brilliant 
women. There I met often the famous Mrs. Madison, and 
was as much under the fascination of that queen of women as 
was all the rest of the world. 

Mr. Burr was never at the “ White House ” — that is the 
name the President has given to his palace — but once when I 


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was present. I think he and the President were not very good 
friends. The one time was on the occasion of a dinner given 
to Mr. and Mrs. Jerome Bonaparte; they were guests of Mr. 
Burr, and so, of course, he was included in the dinner given 
to the beautiful bride and her distinguished husband. 

She was a bride of a very few weeks when she came to Wash- 
ington, and the wedding had been the talk of the city. Most 
of the Washington people had known the lovely Miss Pat- 
terson and many of them had met the young Bonaparte. So- 
ciety was equally divided, I think, in approval and disapproval 
of the marriage. There were many who thought she had made 
a brilliant match, and that to be the sister-in-law of the great 
Napoleon Bonaparte was an honor any woman might covet, but 
there were many, also, who foreboded only unhappiness for tho 
beautiful bride. 

I met her first at the President's dinner, but I met her many 
times afterward, at Mr. Burr's and in other houses. I 
had fallen under the spell of her beauty at first sight, and 
it is one of the crimes for which I am least able to forgive 
the great Napoleon that he should so ruthlessly have broken 
the heart of that exquisite creature. She reminded me much, 
both in looks and manner, of Theodosia Burr, as everyone in 
America still called her, and I believe the Vice-president saw 
the likeness also; he certainly found Mistress Bonaparte most 
charming. 

I had been very curious, also, to meet Jerome Bonaparte, 
the brother of the man for whom I entertained the most pro- 
found hatred mingled with some unwilling admiration. I 
little thought when I met him familiarly, as I did many times, 
that I was hobnobbing with a future king, but I think he had 
a very good presence for the figure-head of a king, which was 
all any of Napoleon's brothers could hope to be while the Em- 
peror lived. He was a handsome man, and had very pleasant 
manners, and altogether I rather liked him, though somewhat 
against my consent. 

It was meeting so many interesting people that made those 
two months fly so swiftly, in spite of the fact that my thoughts 


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were constantly turning to gay New York with a great longing. 
Late in February I received a letter from my father in reply 
to the letter I had written him about Miss Desloge. It had 
been long overdue and I had almost ceased to hope for a favor- 
able answer. He had waited, he said, to hear from Mr. Living- 
ston in Paris before writing me, and Mr. Livingston had writ- 
ten him there could be no reason in the world, so far as family, 
breeding, or personal character could go, why Sir Lionel should 
not marry Miss Desloge, if he so desired; and my father, there- 
fore, gave his own free consent, only conditioning that there 
should be no wedding until I returned to England. 

I cannot tell you with what ecstasy I read my father’s words, 
somewhat chastened, I confess, by the remembrance that there 
was another consent to be won beside my father’s. But I had 
all along believed that it was because I had told her that I was 
under promise to my father not to engage myself without his 
consent, that Mademoiselle had thus far refused to listen to 
me. I believed the last redoubt was taken, the last defense was 
down! 

From the moment of receiving my father’s letter I was im- 
patient to be gone from Washington. Unfortunately, I had 
promised to wait for Mr. Burr and return with him. He was 
to leave for New York on the fifth of March and the fifth of 
March was hardly a week away; I had not the hardihood to 
propose going on ahead of him, since I could think of no plea 
of urgent business demanding my presence at once in New 
York. There was nothing for me to do but to possess my soul 
in patience, as best I could. 

Now Mr. Burr had a theory, he told me. In Washington a 
snow had fallen on the third of March unusually heavy for 
that latitude in that season of the year. Mr. Burr’s theory 
was that for every degree in latitude going north, the depth 
of the snow would increase two inches. Since it was six inches 
in Washington, it would be eight in Lancaster and ten in New 
York. 

“ We will go home on runners, Sir Lionel,” he said exultingly, 
“ and we will get there in half the time we would on wheels.” 


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Which was true, for the roads are very bad throughout this 
country, and particularly in March. 

But alas for all theories! Every mile we traveled north 
the air grew warmer and the snow softer. By the time we 
reached Havre de Grace, ready to cross the Susquehanna — 
a broad and beautiful river here at its mouth, as it had been 
a beautiful little stream at its source — our runners were cut- 
ting through to the ground. Long before we reached Lan- 
caster our cariole was dragging heavily on bare mud, and I 
had taken refuge on Saladin’s back to relieve the sleigh of all 
unnecessary weight. Instead of making time we were losing it 
every hour, and I chafed at every minute’s delay that kept me 
longer from New York and Mademoiselle. 

Yet impatient as I was, I believe the Vice-president was no 
less so, and he had greater cause for impatience than I. The 
caucus had met in February naming the candidates for the 
Presidency and Vice-presidency for the next election and Burr’s 
name w r as not on the ticket for either place. No doubt this was 
a keen disappointment to him for I believe he had expected 
the first place; I have come to think he was an inordinately 
conceited man, and believed his popularity to be far greater 
than it ever was. With indomitable pluck, as soon as he realized 
one prize was lost, he set himself to straining every nerve to 
secure another, and his candidacy for the office of governor of 
New York was already in full swing. But he knew that he 
was needed to direct it and every moment’s delay in reaching 
New York lessened his chances of success. 

Yet with every reason for impatience, while I chafed openly 
he jested cheerfully, ridiculing himself and his theories that 
had brought us to such a pass, with imperturbable good nature. 
Only once in the course of that trying journey did I hear any- 
thing like bitterness from his lips. 

“ If it had been possible I could have believed Hamilton had 
a hand in this thaw,” he said bitterly, “he has blocked me in 
every step of my political career. It was he who kept me out 
of the Presidency four years ago; it was he who prevented 
my name from being presented to the caucus this time, and 


390 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


now he is moving heaven and earth to keep me out of the gov- 
ernor's chair." 

I had not realized until that moment the acuteness of the feel- 
ing between Hamilton and Burr. It had increased rapidly within 
the last few months ; I do not believe that Burr would, at this 
time, present himself at Hamilton's house informally as he had 
done last summer. Now, though I was fascinated by Burr and 
admired him extremely, I loved and reverenced Hamilton, and 
this speech embarrassed me greatly. Burr was always quick 
to feel sympathy or lack of it in a listener, and with a ready 
change of manner he went on, relieving me of the necessity of 
speech. 

“ I have a very great respect for Mr. Hamilton's abilities ; 
indeed, I quite stand in awe of his powers at times. Do you 
suppose he can control even the elements, and has sent this 
thaw to keep me out of New York a day or two longer? " 

I laughed, as he intended I should, and the conversation 
drifted from politics to less dangerous topics. 

We gained a little time by stopping in Philadelphia only 
for a night's rest. Neither of us had any inducement for a 
longer stay, even if we had not been so impatient to reach 
New York. I had heard Mr. Burr say that “ Celeste " was out 
of the city. I do not think that was the real name of the young 
lady he was so interested in, but a pseudonym he had given her 
for convenience, and because, no doubt, he thought it particu- 
larly appropriate to her. As for me, I had received a letter 
from Lloyd, early in February, telling me he was going out to 
St. Louis to see his old friends, Captain Clark and Mr. Lewis, 
start on their expedition of discovery to the Northwest, and by 
this time he was probably nearing his destination ; so I was not 
to be detained in Philadelphia, therefore, by a visit with him, 
and barely giving ourselves a night's rest, we made an early start 
on what we hoped would be the last lap of our journey. But 
the roads were impossible, almost impassable. We had changed 
our runners for wheels at Lancaster, but much of the way we 
were up to our hubs in mud. The melted snow and the warm 


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air drawing the frost out of the ground had made the roads a 
deep paste of sand and clay. 

“ It was certainly not in March that Washington Morton 
took his famous walk,” exclaimed Mr. Burr disgustedly, when 
we had been dragging along laboriously for hours and making 
but little progress. 

“ What was it ? ” I asked. 

“ He walked from New York to Philadelphia on a wager,” he 
answered. 

“ I believe it would be easier walking than driving,” I laughed. 
“But did he really do it?” 

“Yes, and won something better than his money. Every- 
body says the fame of his feat won him his wife, Mrs. Ham- 
ilton’s sister, Cornelia Schuyler. The Schuylers all love deeds 
of daring. Mrs. Hamilton fell in love with her husband when 
he was a dashing young officer; Cornelia and Washington Mor- 
ton were both much younger ; the w~ar was over before their time, 
and since there was no longer a chance of winning his wife by 
feats of arms, young Morton must needs win her by a feat of 
feet.” 

I laughed and, in fact, tedious as was the journey, I laughed 
the greater part of the way, for Mr. Burr was always beguiling 
its tedium with anecdotes of people I knew or knew of, or by 
some jest or witty story. He was incomparable as a conversa- 
tionalist, untiring as a host, and for unfailing good humor I 
have never known his equal. 

And after all my impatience I was too late. I reached New 
York only to find that Miss Livingston and Miss Desloge had 
left for Clermont just two days before. I could have torn my 
hair and gnashed my teeth in the impotence of rage at my un- 
happy fate. I was for starting for Clermont the next morning, 
but calmer counsel prevailed with me to be not too precipitate. 
I would write and tell Miss Desloge of my letter from my 
father and get her permission to go to Clermont and plead my 
suit in person. 

I do not believe letters are ever of much avail in affairs of 


392 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


the heart. Miss Desloge replied, but very coolly. It would not 
be convenient for Miss Livingston to have Sir Lionel at Cler- 
mont just now, the house was upset with spring cleaning and 
spring dressmaking. Nor did Miss Desloge, herself, think such 
a visit expedient at present. She would be in New York with 
Miss Livingston early in May, and until then would Sir Lionel 
please bear in mind Miss Desloge’s oft-repeated ultimatum. 
It was still in force . 

Whereupon I came very near going into one of my black 
rages, such as I have not had since I was a boy and the little 
Eosie used to torment me until I could neither see, nor hear, 
nor think. When I recovered a little from my rage and read 
over Miss Desloge’s letter once more, I was not so sure as I had 
been, at first, that she intended to enrage me. I was not sure 
but it was written in fear of Miss Livingston. It seemed to me 
I could discern her hand in it. I almost believed it was written 
at her dictation! 

That month of March seemed to me the most interminable 
month of my life, and to add to my other troubles the weather 
was intolerable — cold, raw, blustery, a March of the Marches! 
The city I had thought so gay and bright in the fall and early 
winter, comparing it in my mind with Paris, seemed to me the 
dreariest spot in the universe. It was full of the same people 
I had thought so charming then, but though I pursued a dreary 
round of dinners and dances and card parties and plays, the 
charm was gone. 

Early in April I received a letter from Lloyd, written in 
St. Louis, and bearing astounding tidings. He was bringing 
home his bride, the Comtesse de Baloit ! They would arrive in 
Philadelphia early in the month and just as soon after their 
arrival as I could, conveniently, he wanted me to come over 
from New York and meet his bride. He had found her in St. 
Louis on his arrival and — he was the happiest man in the 
world. 

That I well believed, and I was honestly glad for him, but 
somehow my own prospects of happiness looked none the brighter 
by comparison. A few days later I received another note from 


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393 


him, written this time from Philadelphia — they were at home 
and they wanted me to come over at once, to be in time for the 
wedding festivities. 

The whole city of Philadelphia was agog over this wedding 
and for two weeks there was a ceaseless round of festivities in 
honor of the bridal pair. I thought it must be hard on a newly 
married couple to have so little time to see each other, but they 
went through their part bravely, and the countess won all hearts 
by the sweetness and graciousness of her manner as she had 
won all eyes by her beauty. And then, a sudden stop was put 
to the festivities by the terrible news from Prance of the mur- 
der of her cousin, the young Due d’Enghien, with whom she 
had taken refuge in Baden when she fled from Paris and Bona- 
parte. The latter part of my stay was as quiet as the first part 
had been gay, though the bride would not allow her grief to 
darken her husband’s happiness. She bore it very sweetly, and 
talked much of her cousin and how brave and gallant he was; 
and hearing her, I registered another vow against the arch- 
villain Bonaparte. 

It was the first day of May when I returned to New York. 
At home it would have been a great festival, with the hedges 
all a-bloom and lads and lasses out before the dew had dried 
to gather the May with which to crown the queen. There were 
no hedges in this country through which Saladin and I rode, 
but everywhere the orchards were a-bloom and the whole coun- 
tryside was one vast pink and white nosegay. 

“ Apple blossoms are for first love,” I said to myself as I 
plucked a fragrant spray from a tree that overhung the road. 
“ I could not honestly send apple blossoms to Mademoiselle ; she 
is at least my third love; Rosie Dufour and Peggy were ahead 
of her. But I have half a mind to send this to her; it will at 
least remind her of my existence.” And I stuck the rosy branch 
in my saddle-bow for safe-keeping. 

At the City Tavern I found some changes. A ship from the 
Bermudas had arrived, bringing many guests, and among them 
a dapper little fellow wearing an eyeglass. I knew he was 
from home as soon as I saw the eyeglass, and seeing that he 


394 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


was alone and looking a little forlorn I ventured to speak to 
him, for which small act of humanity I have been richly re- 
warded. For the author of “Lalla Eookh” and the “ Irish 
Melodies ” came to be one of my life-long friends, and though 
I do not now regard “ Lalla Eookh ” as so great a poem as I once 
did, yet I still think there are no sweeter lyrics in the language 
than “ Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms,” 
“ Come Eest In This Bosom,” and some of the other Irish Melo- 
dies. 

I did not know then how great a man in embryo I had lighted 
upon, but it did not take a minute’s conversation to discover 
that he was a man after my own heart, and I invited him up to 
my rooms. There we fell at once to talking books and poetry 
and he confessed modestly that he dabbled a little in verse, and 
showed me sonnets he had been writing to a Bermuda beauty. 
I was enchanted with them and begged for a copy, and thought 
to myself — Oh, could I but write such verses to Mademoiselle ! 

He had been in the Bermudas for his health, incidentally 
holding a position in the Admiralty there, and he had much to 
say of the beauty of the islands and the loveliness of the climate, 
but he was thoroughly homesick and intended to stay in New 
York no longer than the sailing of the next packet. 

The Morning Chronicle was lying on my table and as we 
talked, young Mr. Moore, for that was his name, picked it up 
and read a little sketch signed Jonathan Old Style, and was 
charmed with its cleverness. 

“You shall meet the author,” I said. “You will take to 
each other like two birds of a feather. And I will introduce 
you to Paulding, our poet. He writes real poetry and gets it 
published in the Evening Post , our other newspaper. Oh, you 
will find we have some taste for letters here in the new world.” 

The next day I hunted up Paulding and Irving and brought 
them around to meet Mr. Moore and the three were friends in 
a trice. He was a jolly little fellow, an Irishman, and he 
persisted in calling Irving Mr. Old Style. We made up a party 
to the Vauxhall Gardens for that night, and I found his so- 
ciety so fascinating that I scarcely left him for a moment dur- 


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ing the day and it was for that reason, I suppose, that I did not 
hear the news of the town, and so was left to stumble upon it 
accidentally. 

It seemed that the gardens were opening that night for the 
first time for the season, and all the beauty and fashion of the 
city were thronging the Bowery road on their way to celebrate 
the event. They were only open through the summer months, 
and the last summer, owing to the yellow fever, they had been 
closed for a large part of the season. 

We arrived late, and being arrayed in the very height of 
style, long blue riding coats with silver buttons, scarlet waist- 
coats, yellow knee-breeches and long silk stockings with silver 
buckles on our shoes and at our knees, we flattered ourselves we 
created somewhat of a sensation as we made the tour of the 
boxes, ogling the pretty ladies we did not know and bowing low 
to those we did. 

Irving and Paulding and Moore were each wearing a small 
bouquet of lilies of the valley pinned to the lapel of his coat 
collar, and I had stuck a sprig of my apple blossom, still fresh 
and fragrant, through the button-hole of mine. Dancing had 
already begun and Irving and Paulding soon deserted us for 
two pretty girls whom they led out on the floor. I stopped, 
with Moore, in front of a box, whose occupants I did not ob- 
serve, to point out the dancers to him, rather proud to be able 
to name the most beautiful of them and to receive a smile from 
some of them as they came near me in the mazes of the figure. 
And so engrossed was I in this occupation that I was quite 
startled to hear my name and an imperious voice exclaiming : 

“ Sir Lionel, of what crime have your friends been guilty that 
you refuse to recognize them ? 99 

I turned quickly, and with a madly beating heart, for I rec- 
ognized Miss Livingston’s voice, and knew whom I might expect 
to see with her. There they both were with Mrs. Montgomery 
and the Countess Niemcewiscz and three gentlemen. One of 
the three, as I might have expected, was Kemble; one, as I 
might have feared, was Ogden ; and the third, of course, was the 
handsome Polish count. 


396 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


I bowed low to the ladies and begged permission to bring my 
friend into their box, which was readily granted. As I called 
his name Miss Livingston cried: 

“ Not Mr. ‘ Thomas Little/ whose volume of verses I have in 
my library ? ” 

And in the same breath Mrs. Montgomery exclaimed : 

“Not the translator of the Odes of Anacreon?” 

My friend blushed and owned to the soft impeachment, and 
I was not a little proud and not a little amazed to find myself 
in the company of so great a man. The ladies were all affa- 
bility and made a lion of Mr. Moore at once; “ the Little Lion,” 
Miss Livingston called him, in reference both to his nom de 
plume and his size. Tea had already been ordered but the 
order was increased to include us and as my good luck would 
have it, or my skillful manoeuvering, I am not sure to which 
I owed it most, I found a seat by Mademoiselle Desloge. Ogden 
was on her other side, but I was determined to give him but 
little chance to talk to her, and he very soon gave up trying and 
devoted himself to the countess. 

I found that the ladies had been in New York nearly a week, 
and I bewailed the fate that had made me lose so much precious 
time in Philadelphia. I said so to Mademoiselle and she smiled 
skeptically. 

“Your friend’s sisters are very beautiful, are they not? I 
have heard so.” 

“ Yes, they are very pretty little girls,” I replied coolly ; but 
I added with enthusiasm, “ His wife, the countess, is one of the 
most beautiful women I have ever seen.” 

“And a Frenchwoman?” she smiled. 

“ Are all Frenchwomen so beautiful ? ” I demanded. 

But she was not compelled to reply to that, for at that mo- 
ment a familiar voice assailed my ears, and a long arm and 
sinewy hand was extended toward me. 

“Fer the land’s sake! Sir Lionel, where did you come 
from ! ” 

It was my old friend Captain Skinner, and I was delighted 


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397 


to see him. The ladies had seen him before, for he had been in 
town more than a week and, it seems, had called on them — 
which struck me as a little odd. 

After his first hearty greetings the good captain was a little 
embarrassed. He had not seen me since the trial, for he had 
sailed for England while we were chasing La Force, and he had 
never been quite satisfied with his performance on that occa- 
sion. It was the embarrassment of a conscious disloyalty, for 
he had too evidently believed me guilty. 

“ I wish you’d a caught the darned critter. Sir Lionel,” he 
said to me. “ I owe him a good ’un myself for deceivin’ of me 
so — the sneak ! ” 

He had a letter for me from my father, he said, and handed 
me over a bulky package which I recognized at once, from the 
feeling, must contain banknotes, and I put it carefully away in 
my waistcoat pocket, feeling a little vexed lest its bulk should 
mar the perfect set of my coat on which I prided myself. But 
it was delightful to hear so directly from my father and I had 
many questions to ask the captain of his looks and his health. 
Also, the captain had much to say of the state of alarm the 
whole southern coast of England was in, lest Bonaparte might 
at any moment descend upon it. He, himself, no longer 
ventured through the Channel ; he made his landing for France, 
at a little port on the west coast, and for England at Clover 
Combe ! 

So that was how he had come to see my father ! I was 
greatly excited by his news and wished much that I could go 
home with him (he said he was to sail in a few days) if only 
I could take Mademoiselle with me. And I determined on the 
spot to write my father a letter to send by the captain, begging 
him to shorten my exile. I wanted to be at home to help de- 
fend my beloved Devonshire should it indeed be in peril. 

Much as I enjoyed seeing the captain, however, and talking 
of home, I was not sorry to have him say good-by, for I felt these 
moments were precious. The noise of many voices, the music 
and the sound of tripping feet on the polished floor, set Made- 


398 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


moiselle and me off to ourselves. I could say what I pleased, 
if only I lowered my voice. It was after much delightfull) 
confidential talk that Mademoiselle said: 

“ Where did you get your apple blossoms? Do they grow 
apple trees in the City Tavern ? " 

“I plucked them on the road from Philadelphia/' I an- 
swered, “ and I gathered them thinking of you. You know 
their language ? " 

“ First love, is n't it ? but I hardly see why you should think 
of me." 

“ Because you are my first love," I answered boldly. 

“How about Peggy?" she retorted with twinkling eyes. 

“ Oh, Peggy ! I learned long ago that I was never in love 
with Peggy. My vanity was tickled, and my callow judgment 
was dazzled." 

“ And, let me see, there was my old friend Rosamond Dufour, 
was there not, before Peggy's day ? " 

“ A red-headed, freckled-faced baby ! " I exclaimed impa- 
tiently. 

Her eyes were twinkling as if a dozen mischievous sprites 
looked out of them and the merry dimples were.playing hide and 
seek in her cheeks. I was seized with an overwhelming desire 
to get her off by myself, for always just when I began to think 
I was making some headway in my suit. Miss Livingston would 
break into our talk with some sharp question or demand of 
Mademoiselle that became unbearable as the evening passed. 
It was — “ Mademoiselle, you have neglected to fill Mr. Ogden'3 
cup again!" — “Mademoiselle, where is my powder bag?" — 
“ Mademoiselle, my shoulders are cold ; put my cloak over 
them ! " 

It was in vain that I or anyone else sprang to execute her 
commands, she always insisted that Mademoiselle should do it, 
and I was rapidly growing to hate Miss Livingston, who looked 
so handsome and could be at times so charming. 

It was after a demand a little more outrageous than the others 
that I said to Mademoiselle: 

“ Will you stand up with me in the dance ? " 


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399 


She answered with a look of delight that I could not mis- 
take : 

“I will speak to Miss Livingston, and if she has no objec- 
tions — ” 

“ Oh, how can you be so servile ! ” I broke in rudely. “ It 
surely is not necessary to ask her permission to dance with 
me 1” 

But she shook her head, smiling. 

“ With you more than anyone,” she said, and turned to Miss 
Livingston. 

“ Sir Lionel asks me to stand up in the dance with him,” she 
said, “Have you any objections, madam?” 

“ Certainly, I have,” Miss Livingston answered coldly. 
“ The hour is late, nor do I think it proper that in so public a 
place, a young lady in your position should stand up with the 
‘ observed of all observers/ ” 

For one dreadful moment there was absolute silence in the 
little circle. I very nearly forgot that Miss Livingston was not 
a man. Oh, that I could have struck her in the face and chal- 
lenged her on the spot! I saw Mademoiselle give Miss Living- 
ston one quick reproachful glance, and then her eyes fell and 
her beautiful face was bathed in burning blushes. It was not 
possible that I should remain longer a member of Miss Living- 
ston’s party where I was so helpless to protect Mademoiselle 
from insult. 

“ Mesdames and Messieurs,” I said, bowing low, “ I will bid 
you good evening. Mr. Moore, Mr. Irving will see you to the 
City Tavern. Good night, Mademoiselle, I will do myself the 
honor of calling on you to-morrow.” And I stalked away with 
my head in the air. 

But on the morrow, when I called, the ladies were “not at 
home.” It was the same on the next day and on the third and 
the fourth. On the fifth day, for I would not be discouraged, 
Miss Livingston came down to the drawing-room alone. I 
rose to my feet as she entered the room and gave her no chance 
to speak. 

“ I called to see Mademoiselle Desloge,” I said quickly ; “ I 


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MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


think you and I can have no dealings with one another. Miss 
Livingston." 

“ Sir Lionel," she said, so gently that I marveled, for I had 
supposed my speech would anger her, “I have come down to 
make some explanation to you. I think you cannot refuse to 
listen to a lady." 

I bowed, and she went on : 

“ Some day you will thank me for all that you now so re- 
sent in my treatment of Mademoiselle. Some day we will be 
friends." 

She paused a moment, and I merely ejaculated, “ Impossible, 
madam ! " 

“ I am as sure of it as that I stand here," she insisted. 
“ Some day you will think very differently of me, when you 
know the truth about Mademoiselle." 

“You speak as if she were some villain or criminal in dis- 
guise," I flashed at her. “ I will not hear one word in defama- 
tion of her. Will you be so good as to tell her I am here and 
ask her to come down to see me ? " 

She answered slowly, still speaking gently and looking at me 
with eyes that seemed to entreat my forgiveness: 

“Mademoiselle sailed for home yesterday, on the Sea Gull ” 


XXXI 


MIGHTY IN’ DEATH 

A LL the suffering I had endured when I thought I had loved 
Peggy and lost her was as nothing to my agony of soul 
now. When Miss Livingston finished speaking I stood staring 
at her for a full minute — I was as a man turned to stone. 
Then without a word to her, I turned and went out of the 
house. 

It was five o’clock in the afternoon when I left the Living- 
ston mansion; it was nearly eight, and rapidly growing dusk, 
when I came to myself sitting on a rock overlooking the Hudson 
far beyond the little village of Greenwich. How long I had 
been sitting there I knew not. I think it was some vague mem- 
ory, stirred by the sunset, that brought me back to self-con- 
sciousness. The sun had set over the Jersey hills in a golden 
sea, into which dropped the slender crescent of the new moon; 
nine months before I had watched that slender golden shallop 
sailing into a daffodil sea with Miss Desloge by my side. 

“ Never again!” I groaned aloud, and getting to my feet I 
shook myself, as if so I might once more rouse the currents of 
life stagnating in my soul. I turned and walked toward the 
city, slowly at first, but more rapidly, as the every-day facts 
of existence began to return to my recollection, and I remem- 
bered that I had young Tom Moore on my hands for the evening 
and the hour was growing late. 

“ Hearts may break but dinners must be eaten,” I muttered 
to myself, and hurried on, wishing that Tom Moore had never 
dropped upon these shores, or wishing, how much more fer- 
vently, that I had never seen them myself. 

Passing the Bayard place, young Bayard stepped out of the 
26 401 


402 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


gates and recognizing me in the twilight, was surprised to see 
me so far from home, and walking. 

“ Out for a constitutional,” I said lightly. “ Do yon never 
walk yourself, sir ? ” 

“ Often, and if you will let me, I will walk a way with you 
now,” he answered. 

I could have wished him a thousand miles away, but there 
was nothing to do but to express my pleasure in his company. 
He had been particularly polite to me since my return from 
Washington and I had come to like him well, but there was no 
man whose society would have been pleasant to me then. 

In the course of our walk he said to me, quite shyly: 

“ Sir Lionel, I have long been desiring to ask you to come 
out and spend the night at the house and go fishing with me in 
the morning before sun-up. Will you come ? ” 

“ I should be delighted to, sometime,” I answered, never ex- 
pecting to do so, and, still less, dreaming of the terrible event 
that would make my fishing with him one of the indelible 
memories of my life. 

Before I had reached the City Tavern I had made a definite 
plan for the next ten weeks. Tom Moore, having fallen into 
pleasant company, for the Cockloft Hall lads had shown him 
much attention, had recovered from his haste to be off for home. 
He was talking now of touring the country, going as far west as 
Niagara and then down the St. Lawrence to Montreal and Que- 
bec, and so back to New York by the Lakes Champlain and 
George, and the Hudson River. He had proposed to me to go 
with him, but I had not considered it; I had other plans that 
would require all my time and all my energy. 

Now I no longer had any plans of my own. What I most 
longed to do was to return by the next packet to England, but 
my letter, asking my father’s permission to return, had gone 
out only the day before on the boat with Mademoiselle; it 
would be fully ten weeks before I could receive an answer, and 
to spend that ten weeks in New York would be intolerable. I 
would go with Mr. Moore — possibly in the excitements of 
travel I might find some distraction. 


MIGHTY IN DEATH 


403 


I found him waiting for me in my rooms, and with him 
were Irving and Kemble and young Cooper, whom I had not 
seen since our return from the pursuit of La Force. I believe 
now, though I did not think of it then, that Kemble and Irving 
had heard of Mademoiselle’s sudden departure, and guessing 
it would be a blow to me, coming on top of my theater escapade, 
had planned a diversion with the kindly idea of cheering 
me. They greeted my arrival with the announcement that they 
were hungry as bears waiting for me, and where under the canopy 
had I been this unconscionable time ! And without giving me a 
chance to reply they announced further, that the Kilkenny Lads 
had engaged supper at Cato’s and were waiting for us there. 
We must be off at once or they would conclude we were not com- 
ing and eat up the supper without us. 

As Cato’s was three miles out on the Boston Post Road, and 
as it was now nearly nine o’clock, there was no time to be lost 
in argument, and I yielded without a murmur, though a royster- 
ing supper, such as a supper at Cato’s was bound to be, was 
the last thing I was in the humor for. We went on horseback, 
and Scipio and Mr. Kemble’s black man rode ahead carrying 
torches, for the night was dark. It was Saladin’s first expe- 
rience with torches and he was inclined to be restive for awhile, 
but he soon quieted down, and as we swept swiftly along through 
the cool night air, sweet with the odors of spring and growing 
things, I was conscious of a feeling of keen regret that this was, 
probably, my last ride on Saladin. If I could persuade Mr. 
Moore we would start on our travels the day after the morrow 
and I hoped to find a packet sailing for home immediately on 
my return. There would be little chance for riding in the 
hurry of preparations, and I loved Saladin. 

We found the rest of the Kilkenny Lads just ready to give 
us up, and we were greeted with shouts of welcome and hurried 
to the table, where Cato had outdone himself in setting before 
us all the spring delicacies and the special dishes for which he 
was so justly famous. Whether Moore would go with me or 
not I determined, as I took my seat, that this should be in the 
nature of a farewell banquet; I would start off on that tour 


404 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


alone, if I could get no one to go with me; I would not stay 
in New York, where either I must be a death’s head at the 
festivities of my friends or must subject myself to such a strain 
of forced gayety as human heart and brain could not endure for 
long. For this one evening I put a tremendous pressure upon 
myself and I believe I was no damper on their hilarity. 

Early in the feast I made my proposal to Moore. 

“You have been talking of a tour to Niagara and Canada, 
Mr. Moore,” I said, “and you once asked me to go with you. 
If you have not changed your mind and would still like me 
for a traveling companion, I am ready to start day after to- 
morrow.” 

“ Good ! ” shouted Moore enthusiastically. “ Your hand on 
that, Sir Lionel.” But there was dead silence from the rest 
of the table, for a moment. I think they understood, and in 
their hearts they were feeling such sympathy with me, as pre- 
vented, for the moment, any expression. They were generous- 
hearted fellows ; I had grown to love them in these nine months, 
and I believed they loved me. 

It was Kemble who broke the silence, which was beginning to 
be embarrassing. 

“ You can see, Sir Lionel,” he said, “ that we 6 Lads ’ are 
loath to let you go. We will be sorry to say good-by to Mr. 
Moore, also, on such short notice, but you have become a 
€ brother of our souls ’ and we cannot lightly let you go.” 

“ If we could only go with you ! ” said Irving. 

“Why not?” I asked. “Your law practice is not so press- 
ing, is it, Irving, that you need stay home for it ? ” 

A laugh always greeted any reference to Irving’s practice. 
He had never yet had a case. 

“ I wish I could,” said Irving, “ but my family want me to 
go abroad; I was hoping I might have you and Moore for ship 
companions.” 

“ Going abroad ! ” I exclaimed, for this was news to me. 
“Wait until we get back from our Canadian trip. I am hop- 
ing, by that time, to have received permission from my father 
to return and we will all go over together.” 


MIGHTY IN DEATH 


405 


And so it was finally settled, the rest of the Kilkenny Lads 
professing themselves profoundly envious of Irving and Moore. 
We would be gone about ten weeks on our Canadian trip and 
on our return, provided I found the expected permission from 
my father, Irving, Moore and I would take the first packet for 
England. The supper became a farewell banquet in fact, and 
we were late into the night drinking farewell toasts to one an- 
other and rode home under the brilliant constellations, our 
flaring torches casting weirdly dancing shadows along our road, 
while we talked of the happy past and pledged a brother’s love 
to each other and sang the German farewell song, with all the 
tender sentiment and sweet mournfulness that youth, untouched 
by the real sorrows of the world, loves to revel in. 

I am not going to tell of our adventures, young Moore’s and 
mine; they would fill a book by themselves. Suffice it to say 
that I discovered I had been wise in my plan. No companion 
could have been better for a man staggering under a weight 
of woe, than this light-hearted Irishman, bubbling over with 
wit and sentiment; finding poetry in every step of our road 
through the beautiful hills and valleys of this wonderful state; 
standing awe-struck and speechless before the tremendous down- 
pour of the mighty Niagara; full of wonder at the splendor of 
the great river bearing its lovely thousand isles so lightly on 
its broad bosom ; and swelling with pride in the beauty of Mon- 
treal and the quaint picturesqueness of Quebec, two English 
cities on this continent of America that an Englishman could 
well feel pride in. 

We reached New York on the second of July, and there, 
in the pile of letters awaiting me at the City Tavern, none of 
which had been sent forward to me, since they could not have 
caught us on our flying trip, was one from my father that had 
reached New York just two days after Moore and I had started 
for Niagara, giving me the permission, I had so longed for, to 
return at once. His letter said that he was moved to the de- 
cision by two things: one was the report Captain Skinner gave 
him of the suffering I had endured in being imprisoned and 
brought to trial, and of which I had made light; the other was 


406 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


the threatening attitude of Bonaparte to the south coast. 
Should the French fleet really cross the channel and England 
be invaded, he knew that I would be very unhappy not to be at 
home to take a hand in the defense of Devonshire. 

For a while it was hard to get over my disappointment that 
I should have missed this letter ; I would have been home weeks 
ago if I had not rushed off in such haste to escape New York. 
And what made it harder to bear was that a packet had sailed 
the day before our return to New York, and now there would 
be none sailing again in weeks, for there were very few regular 
packets to England that summer, since the sea was full of 
French privateers and there were few skippers as daring as 
Captain Skinner, or so lucky as he had heretofore been. 

Well, there was nothing to do but wait. In the meantime 
Moore and I were receiving invitations on all sides for visits. 
Paulding carried Moore off to his brother’s place up the Hud- 
son, but I preferred keeping my headquarters at the City Tavern 
and only going for dinner or for the night to my friends in 
turn. I had promised to spend the Fourth of July with Mr. 
Hamilton at the Grange and he had invited me, also, to the 
banquet of the Sons of Cincinnatus, for the evening of that day. 
Had I been an American, he told me, he would not have been 
at liberty to invite me, but since I was a foreigner he could 
do so. 

It was rather odd to be assisting at a banquet celebrating 
England’s defeat, for a Fourth of July banquet would have to 
be so regarded, but I had always been on the side of America 
in that question, and I could listen to the toasts and drink them 
heartily. 

It was a notable company that sat down to table; many of 
them I knew, and most of the others I had heard of and was 
curious to see. Mr. Burr was there. I had met him the day 
after my return and he had invited me to spend the Fourth 
at Richmond Hill. I had the previous engagement at the 
Grange and I was not sorry. It seemed to me that Mr. Burr 
had changed in the few weeks since we had taken our ride to- 
gether from Washington. He had seemed to me then the em- 


MIGHTY IN DEATH 


407 


bodiment of careless good humor; he seemed to me, now, anx- 
ious and worried, and in the course of our short talk together 
I heard more bitter speeches from his lips than in all the time 
I had known him. I knew, of course, that he had lost the 
election for governor; Morgan Lewis had secured it, but that 
did not seem to me sufficient to account for what struck me as 
a great change in the gay, brilliant, fascinating Vice-president. 

The banquet of the Cincinnati was a brilliant affair. Mr. 
Hamilton was president of the order, as the great Washington 
had been before him, and I cannot conceive a more delightful 
host or toastmaster, sparkling, brilliant, flashing with wit and 
humor, remembering everything and forgetting no one. In the 
light of what was soon to follow, Burr’s answered challenge in 
his pocket, the manner of his presiding at that banquet has 
seemed to me since a most amazing exhibition of grit and real 
nerve. Mr. Burr, on the other hand, was unusually quiet. As 
a rule he would have had his own coterie around him keeping 
them all amused and absorbed in him, but that night he spent 
most of the evening quietly watching Hamilton. 

How Mr. Hamilton was no singer — there was but one song 
he ever sang — the Drum. But he had sung that song at every 
banquet of the Cincinnati for years and his old friends were 
not going to break into the tradition now. He demurred at 
first, I believe with some sense of the unfitness of it when he 
stood so close within the shadow, for I believe also that he never 
doubted the outcome of that duel. But he was prevailed upon, 
and in the spirit of glee, that boyish spirit that no burdens 
of state, no private sorrows, nor even the dark wing of the 
destroyer could shadow, he sprang on the table and sang it 
with all the lusty joy of youth. And as he sang, my glance 
fell on Burr who sat nearly opposite me. Every other face 
around that table was glowing with the spirit of conviviality and 
sympathy in the joy of the singer. Burr alone sat dark-browed, 
his arms folded, his eyes intently fixed in a keen and steady 
stare on Hamilton. Often since I have wondered what his 
thoughts could have been. Was he looking at Hamilton in all 
the flush of life and spirits and seeing him as he would be in 


408 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


a few days, cold and lifeless by his murderous hand? Did his 
soul draw back from the deed he was about to commit, or was 
he gloating over it with relentless hate, looking forward to 
the hour when this man, more loved, more idolized, than any 
man then living, should be no longer a stumbling-block in 
his path, the relentless closer of every door of opportunity? 

As I saw Hamilton that night I can never forget him — 
the wonderful magnetic quality of the man was never more 
vividly manifested, every eye and every heart around that table, 
save only one y was irresistibly drawn to him as he sang, his 
dark curls flung back, his wonderful eyes glowing, his smiling 
lips parted, his slender, boyish figure swaying to the rhythm 
of his song. He had but one week of life left to him, and he 
knew it as certainly as if the decree of the executioner had 
gone forth, but his great soul had risen above the things of time 
and sense; he knew that he had lived much and well in his 
forty-seven years and he was unmoved in the midst of the rush- 
ing waves that were closing so swiftly about him. 

I parted with him that night at the door of my tavern and 
the last words he ever said to me were the simple friendly words 
one might use to a friend he expected to see often : 

“You must come out and stay -with us before you sail, but 
lest I forget to tell you, I want you to say to your father that 
we are glad he loaned you to us for a while. If we could 
have more of such fair-minded young Englishmen coming to 
our shores, we would soon heal the breach between the two 
nations.” 

I had met Bayard again since my return and I had promised 
him to spend the night of the tenth with him and go out 
fishing with him early on the morning of the eleventh. We 
were out before sunrise and were fairly successful. It was a 
beautiful morning and many times we let our lines lie idly in 
the water, while we watched the wonderful effects of light and 
shadow on the river and the bay below. We were fishing on 
the Jersey side of the river, and we could look across to the 
tree-embowered city, where we could readily distinguish the 


MIGHTY IN DEATH 


409 


porches and pillars of the Grange to the north, and almost 
equally distant to the south the roofs and chimneys of Bich- 
mond Hill, while half way between them hung the golden 
lantern of the morning star, paling as the dawn rapidly bright- 
ened. It was a picture of perfect peace and beauty and I was 
reminded of my early crossing on the Paulus Hook Perry nearly 
a year before, when the same panorama had unrolled itself be- 
fore my eyes. 

I was speaking of it to young Bayard when we both noticed a 
boat put out from the Bichmond Hill landing and make for 
the Jersey shore not very far from where we were anchored. 
We watched it idly, not being able, at that distance, to dis- 
tinguish the occupants of the boat, when young Bayard ex- 
claimed : 

“ Strange ! there is another boat setting out from the Grange 
headed for exactly the same spot, I should think, and with ex- 
actly three men, not counting the rower, in each boat.” 

I looked quickly, and a chill struck my heart as I looked. 
I think the same foreboding seized Bayard at the same moment, 
for when I looked at him his face was pale and his eyes were 
dilated as if with fear. 

“ Do you think it could be a duel ? and who ? ” I asked. 

“ They came from the Grange and from Bichmond Hill,” he 
answered in a whisper, as if his tongue refused to utter the 
dreadful suspicion aloud. 

Neither of us spoke another word, but with every nerve tense 
we sat and watched the two boats gradually drawing nearer 
each other. I do not think any one in either boat noticed us, 
for we were in the shadow of the shore and the men in the boats 
were, no doubt, intensely preoccupied. The boat from Bich- 
mond Hill reached the landing-place first, but before it reached 
it, we both distinctly recognized Burr and young Van Ness; 
the third man we did not recognize but we supposed him to be 
a physician. The other boat, from the Grange, must pass us in 
order to reach the landing-place, though at some distance out in 
the river. 

“ Oh, Bayard,” I groaned, “ what right have we to sit here 


410 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


and let that man, one of the noblest men God ever made, go to 
his death. Oh, if we only dared stop him ! ” 

But Bayard said nothing. He knew the hideous conventions 
of the murderous practice were too strong for us — we were as 
men with their hands tied. 

As the boat passed us, Hamilton’s voice, clear and beautiful 
as a musical instrument touched by a master’s hand, floated to 
us distinctly over the wide channel of intervening waters. 

“ I shall not fire, Pendleton,” he said. “ I could not hon- 
orably refuse the encounter, but I will have no man’s blood upon 
my head.” 

Every minute seemed an hour to us after that second boat had 
reached the landing, and its occupants had disappeared among 
the trees on a terrace a little above the river. I could not en- 
dure the suspense, and I could see no reason why we should not 
drop down beside the two boats fastened to the landing. As 
we came up, Dr. Hosack was in one of them and recognized 
Bayard. The physician in the other boat scowled at us, but 
Hosack seemed glad to see us. 

“ Bayard,” he exclaimed hurriedly, u if anything happens to 
Hamilton will you row over to your father’s house and have it 
ready to receive him ? The Grange is too far and it would never 
do to bring him home to his wife without notice.” 

There was no time for a reply, for at that moment there was 
the sharp report of a pistol and Hosack and the other physician 
sprang up the steep sides of the embankment. A moment later 
the second physician with Van Ness, shielding a third man from 
sight with an umbrella, came scrambling hastily down the bank, 
sprang into their boat and pulled hurriedly for Richmond 
Hill. 

I looked at Bayard, his face was blanched with terror, as I am 
sure was mine. 

“ Bayard,” I said, “ I must go to him — will you hold the 
boat?” 

He nodded and I sprang up the bank, meeting Pendleton 
and Dr. Hosack bearing him between them. I thought him 
dead at first, for he had fainted, but as I took hold to help bear 


MIGHTY IN DEATH 


411 


liim as gently as possible down the steep bank, he opened his 
eyes and smiled, then fainted again. Tears were running down 
Pendleton’s cheeks and Hosack’s, and Bayard was sobbing aloud 
as we laid him tenderly in the boat, his head and shoulders 
supported in Pendleton’s arms. Then I sprang into Bayard’s 
boat and together we pulled, with all our strength, for his 
father’s house, almost directly across the river. 

We reached it long before the others. A room was made 
ready for him, at once, on the lower floor, and Mr. Bayard 
and young Bayard and I hurried down to the river bank to 
help bring him to the house. As we lifted him in our arms he 
regained consciousness for a moment, and his first thought was 
of Mrs. Hamilton. 

“Let someone tell my wife,” he said, “but do not let her 
despair; do not let her know there is no hope.” 

He lapsed into unconsciousness again immediately, and how 
reverently we bore him ! To be allowed to bear my part in the 
burden of that slight form seemed to me an honor above my 
deserts. 

Many sad duties fell to me that day. No horse in the Bay- 
ard stables was as fleet as Saladin; it was for me to bear the 
tidings to the Grange. Over and over as Saladin and I flew 
along the four interminable miles, I said to myself — “ How 
can I tell her ! How can I tell her and yet give her hope ! ” 

But at the very gates of the Grange I met, as I had met them 
the first time I entered those gates, Mr. Troup and Mr. Mor- 
ris. Their suspicions had been aroused by something Mr. Ham- 
ilton had said the day before, and they had ridden over early 
from Morrisania to see if all was well with the friend dear to 
their hearts. To break the news to these friends of years was 
almost as hard as to break it to his family. Never before and 
never since have I seen two strong men utterly break down and 
sob like children. How men loved him! 

But I could leave Mrs. Hamilton and the family to them 
and I rode back like the wind to the Bayard mansion, fearful 
of the tidings that might await me there, but anxious to be 
of any possible service. The news had spread, and already an 


412 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


anxious crowd of friends was gathered on the lawn, waiting 
silently and tearfully for tidings. Till late in the morning 
Saladin and I were flying between the Bayard mansion and the 
city, on errands for the doctors, and not until there was noth- 
ing more that I could do did I go back to the City Tavern 
for breakfast. I had been up since four, and the great strain of 
all these hours had left me exhausted. 

At the door of the tavern I met Irving, and he greeted me 
in his usual jovial way. 

“ What ’& all the fuss about, Sir Lionel ? ” he asked. “ Is 
it war with France, or England ? ” for the streets were full of 
excited men. 

I looked at him, stupefied for a moment. 

“ Is it possible you ’ve not heard ? 99 I asked. 

u Heard what ? 99 he asked, but soberly enough now, for he 
could see that some dreadful thing had happened. 

“ Mr. Burr shot Mr. Hamilton this morning, and Mr. Ham- 
ilton is dying,” I said slowly, uttering the words with difficulty. 

For a moment Irving turned deadly pale, then the angry 
blood rushed to his face in a flood. 

“It’s a lie,” he exclaimed hotly. “I beg your pardon,” 
he added hastily, as he saw the quick resentment leap to my 
eyes. “ But it is all a horrible mistake ! It is impossible ! I 
have just come from Richmond Hill, where I breakfasted with 
Mr. Burr. I often breakfast with him, for the sake of the 
early morning walk, and never have I seen him calmer or more 
entertaining, than he was at breakfast this morning.” 

“ It is not possible ! ” I exclaimed, using his own words, 
and horror-struck at the picture of the murderer, calmly en- 
tertaining a friend at breakfast, his hands reeking with blood. 

“ At what hour did you breakfast? ” I added abruptly, think- 
ing it possible they had breakfasted before the duel. 

“ I reached Richmond Hill at half-past eight, and found 
Mr. Burr reading in his library. He said he had just had 
his bath and he invited me out to breakfast at once. Oh, no, 
it is not possible ! ” 

I knew how Irving loved Burr. He was one of the young 


MIGHTY IN DEATH 


413 


men who were completely fascinated by the brilliant Vice- 
president. Moreover, he had once been very much in love 
with Theodosia and had transferred something of his tender- 
ness for the daughter to the father. I knew how he would 
suffer wdien he realized the truth, for he loved Hamilton, too, 
and honored him above all men. 

“ Oh, Irving, it is too true ! ” I groaned. “ I was there to 
see. I saw Burr flee from the dueling ground; I helped to 
carry Hamilton to the Bayard mansion, where he is dying.” 

His face was pitiful to see. I think sometimes that those 
faces that are used to be “ wreathed in jollity ” are the saddest 
of all faces when sorrow strikes them down. I took him to 
my room, where I had an egg, a piece of toast and a cup of coffee 
sent up, and then, together, we went back and joined that wait- 
ing throng on the lawn at the Bayards. All that day and all 
that night and far into the next day it stood there patiently 
waiting for the tiniest scrap of tidings from the man it idolized. 
I do not mean that all the men stood there all that time. Men 
were coming and going, yes, and many women, too, but always 
was that waiting throng. And if anyone came through the 
doors like Gouverneur Morris, or Troup, or Matthew Clarkson, 
any one who, they knew, had come from his bedside, they 
gathered around him and begged for some word of hope. But 
there was never any hope. Morris and Troup with the tears 
rushing unheeded from their eyes talked to the throng of the 
agony he suffered and the brave way he bore it; and how he 
comforted the wife who would not be comforted; and how he 
opened his eyes, just once, and looked at his seven weeping 
children and closed them again — he could not bear the sight. 
And strong men sobbed aloud as they listened. 

And then at two o’clock the next day the end came, and 
those of us who had hoped against hope, had to yield at last. 

In the splendor of a great pageant he was borne to his grave. 
All party strife was forgotten. Federalist, Republican and 
Democrat vied to do him honor. The Order of the Cincinnati, 
most aristocratic of societies, and the Order of Tammany, the 
young Republican revolt against such Federal aristocracy, were 


414 


MISS LIVINGSTONS COMPANION 


both in line. Behind his soldier’s bier, two black men robed 
in white, with white turbans, led his gray charger, boots and 
spurs hanging reversed from the saddle. And behind all the 
orders and all the societies and all the great dignitaries of the 
land, followed a long line of weeping citizens. 

Well might they weep! For as Gouverneur Morris said, as 
he stood with Hamilton’s boys about him before the open grave, 
and uttered the brief and impassioned funeral oration: 

“ I declare to you, before that God in whose presence we are 
now so especially assembled, that in his most private and con- 
fidential conversation, his sole subject of discussion was your 
freedom and your happiness. He never lost sight of your in- 
terests.” 

In all these sad days Irving had been my almost constant 
companion. Each day, however, he slipped away for an hour 
or two, and I never asked him where he had been when he re- 
turned, for I knew that he had been with Aaron Burr. And 
thinking of the brilliant man, who so coveted honor and loved 
the adulation of his fellow men, sitting alone, in disgrace with 
all men, even his friends, I could find it in my heart to pity 
him. I would not go to see him ; he had been kind to me many 
times, but I could not bear the thought of ever looking upon 
his face again. 

The funeral was on the fourteenth ; on Monday, the sixteenth, 
Irving, Moore and I were to sail with Captain Skinner for 
England, for Captain Skinner had returned to New York ten 
days before and now he was ready for the hazardous return 
trip. The expresses that flashed out of the city in every di- 
rection, the moment Hamilton’s death was announced, had 
brought every man of any note, within a possible distance, to 
the city. Mr. Jay was there, all the Livingstons, Van Rens- 
selaer s, Van Cortlandt’s, everybody, and among them my young 
friend William Jay from school in New Haven. It gave me 
a chance to deliver Saladin into his own hands and to bid him 
good-by. He had grown taller and more manly in the months 
since I had seen him, and I liked the way he grasped my hand 


MIGHTY IN’ DEATH 


415 


and looked straight into my eyes, though his voice was not quite 
steady as he said, “ Either you are coming back to New York 
or I am going to England before two years are over. I can- 
not lightly give up a friend I have so learned to love.” 

I was uttering many good-bys those last two days and they 
saddened me greatly. The Cockloft Hall boys spent that Sat- 
urday evening after the funeral with me quietly in my rooms; 
there was no thought of revelry in the mind of any one of us, 
so heavy lay the pall of grief for Hamilton on all our hearts. 

We were to go aboard the Sea Gull on Sunday evening, since 
the tide would be at the flood early the next morning and the 
Sea Gull must take advantage of it. The Kilkenny Lads and 
William Jay and young Mr. Cooper were to go down to the 
boat with us and see us comfortably settled, and I had arranged 
with Captain Skinner that we should have a little supper served 
in the cabin — a melancholy farewell banquet. Irving had gone 
out in the afternoon to Richmond Hill, for a last visit, but he 
promised to be with us in time for supper. 

The hour came and passed, and Irving had not come. It 
was long past, and still he had not come. We sat out on the 
deck in the warm summer air, the waters quietly lapping the 
sides of the vessel, a faint breeze gently stirring the shrouds, 
and the lights of the city, one by one, dropping out, as the 
hour grew later. His brothers, Peter and Ebenezer, were vis- 
ibly uneasy, and I was myself much troubled, and to divert 
our minds I asked the captain to serve our supper on deck, 
without waiting longer for Irving. Since the trial there was 
nothing Captain Skinner would not do for me, be the trouble 
small or great, and he set about serving it with alacrity, hav- 
ing first made our part of the deck light as day, by fixing flaring 
torches into linkholes made for the purpose. The good cap- 
tain had outdone himself in his supper, and we were young, 
with the healthy appetites of young men, and neither the sor- 
row we had been through, nor the sadness of an approaching 
parting could dull our appetites. 

We lingered at our little feast, peering constantly into the 
black depths beyond the circle of light from the flaming torches 


416 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


to catch a glimpse of Irving, but it was long after midnight 
when we heard his step on the wharf, and a moment later 
he appeared in our circle of light. It was a worn and wan 
specter of the gay Irving who threw himself into a seat with 
the air of one who is too exhausted to move another step. 

“Lads,” he said, struggling to speak calmly, “he is gone! 
We got him off in a boat from the foot of the garden with 
the greatest difficulty. The warrant is out for his arrest, and 
the house w T as watched by the officers. 

“ And God knows what will become of him alone on the sea 
all night in an open boat ! ” he exclaimed passionately with 
quivering lip. 

For a long moment no one spoke. I knew not what was in 
the hearts of the others, but I was looking off over the dark 
waters of the bay, and thinking of the lonely refugee, fleeing 
from the face of justice, alone on that wide, black sea, and I 
said to myself, “ By his death the great Hamilton has disarmed 
and rendered helpless the one foe he feared as a deadly menace 
to the safety of his idolized country. He has given his life 
for his adopted land!” 


XXXII 


THE ADORABLE MISS LIVINGSTON 

W E weighed anchor at the first turn of the tide next morn- 
ing and went down the harbor on the full flood. It was 
very early, but the dawn was breaking and I was out on deck 
to see the last of those shores which I was so urgent to leave, 
and yet, to which, in my eleven months* sojourn, I had become 
strangely attached. 

Moore and Irving came out and joined me just as we turned 
the keel of the island and swept round under full sail by The 
Battery. Trinity spire was beginning to catch a faint rosy glow 
from the east; beneath its shadow slept the greatest man in 
America, whom I had learned to love well, and close by stood 
the City Tavern, my home through most of these months. The 
trees on the Battery and the little green beyond were stand- 
ing out with the vividness of painted trees in that clear light 
that precedes the sunrise; at the head of that little green was 
Mr. Livingston’s house where I lay ill of the fever and Ma- 
demoiselle nursed me (though I knew it not at the time) at 
the risk of her life ; and on that little green we stood together 
that icy Thanksgiving morning and watched Van Arsdale fasten 
the flag to the liberty pole. As we came farther round the 
island we saw the Paulus Hook Perry, starting out on its first 
morning trip, and I remembered our early crossing, when Lloyd 
and I rode down to breakfast at Liberty Hall and saved Ma- 
demoiselle from being dashed to death on Saladin’s back. Every 
object on those fast-receding shores, where I had known and 
loved her, spoke loudly to me of her, but most of all to be 
standing on the Sea Gull’s deck and watching those familiar 
shores slip away, as eleven months before, side by side, we had 
watched them (new then, and strange) come gliding into view, 
27 417 


418 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


was so powerful a reminder of her that it was hard to stand 
there making perfunctory speeches to Moore and Irving about 
the city — “ a gay little Paris ” — and the harbor — “ the most 
beautiful in the world.” 

As we sailed farther down the harbor Irving begged the 
captain to lend him his glass and he swept the waters toward 
the Jersey coast anxiously. At last he seemed to see some- 
thing; he held his glass steady for a full minute, then he 
handed it to me. 

“ Look, Sir Lionel,” he said. “ I am sure it is he ! ” and his 
voice trembled as he spoke. 

I looked and saw a man, a common water-side man, rowing 
an open skiff with one passenger seated in the stern. There 
was no mistaking the peculiar stoop of the passenger’s shoul- 
ders — it was Burr. He had been all night on the water and 
now that day was breaking they were running into the Kill 
van Kull and making for the little village of Elizabeth. I 
handed the glass back to Irving. Now that I had located the 
boat I could follow it without the aid of the glass, and as we 
watched it, we saw it make a landing and saw the passenger 
with the unmistakable stoop, step ashore and take his lonely 
way toward the little village. He disappeared in a few minutes 
behind a plantation of young oaks. Irving dropped the glass, 
through which he was still gazing intently, and furtively brushed 
away a tear as he turned to hand it to the captain; and I 
hardly knew whether it was with more loathing or pity that 
I had looked my last on the Vice-president of the United States. 

While we had been watching him the day had brightened 
rapidly, the whole heavens were a glow of rose and saffron, 
and as I had sailed into that harbor over an opal-tinted sea, 
so over an opal-tinted sea, I sailed out of it, leaving the rosy 
glow behind us, and passing into a gray world of somber mists 
and clouds. 

There could have been no better ship companions for a mel- 
ancholy man than the two Providence had given me. They 
were twin spirits, though one ran more to a sparkling wit that 


THE ADOKABLE MISS LIVINGSTON 


419 


enchanted me, and the other to a genial humor that warmed the 
very cockles of my heart. Yet much as I delighted in them 
both, it was sometimes a great relief to get away from them 
for awhile and indulge in the melancholy pleasure of a reverie 
of the past. I loved best to get far out in the very bow of 
the boat, where the waves, parted by our swift prow, dashed up 
in foam and fret against the sides of the vessel and often 
showered me with their diamond spray. It was in that spot 
I had had a memorable talk with Miss Desloge and it came to 
me there, as a sudden and strange revelation, that the man who 
sat there dreaming of her was in every way a very different 
creature from the boy who sat and talked with her a year ago 
in the same spot. How light and foolish, now, looked my boy- 
ish passion for Peggy ! This love I bore for Mademoiselle was 
no more to be likened to it than the great swell of the mighty 
Atlantic, thousands of miles broad and fathomless in depth 
was to be compared with the light froth that dashed impotently 
against the staunch vessel's prow. 

Though I hope it was not evident to Irving and Moore (I 
certainly struggled hard against any betrayal of it) I was fast 
falling into a settled melancholy, and the reason for it was the 
utter hopelessness of my passion. I thought then that no man 
had ever been in quite so desperate a case. Had it simply been 
that she did not love me, I could have set to work to win her 
love; had it been, as I once believed, that she loved me but 
was unwilling to marry outside of her native land, I was con- 
fident I could, in time, have overcome that objection. And, 
but for this war with Bonaparte, even her sudden, unannounced 
departure would not have daunted me; I would have followed 
her to France and convinced her. But if this war was to last 
fifteen years, as the last had done, then indeed it was a hopeless 
outlook. 

Going over this ceaseless treadmill of reasoning, far out 
in the bow one morning, I made a sudden vow — Be it fifteen 
years, or longer, I will go to France when this war is ended 
and find her. And feeling the better for my vow I went back 
to Moore and Irving in lighter spirits than I had been since 


420 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


that day in Miss Livingston's drawing-room when she told me 
Mademoiselle had sailed. 

Our voyage was an uneventful one. Moore and Irving proved 
fair sailors, only succumbing to the sickness for a few days when 
the gales struck us up among the roaring forties. Once a 
French privateer sighted us and gave chase, but Captain Skinner 
unlimbered the swivel at the stern of the boat, sent a shot 
across the Frenchman's bows and then, the Sea Gull showing a 
clean pair of heels, we were soon out of sight. 

At a little port on the west coast of France we landed Irving ; 
he was bound, by way of Paris, for Italy, but he was to be in 
England by Christmas, and there was little room for regret 
at the parting on either side, since he was all excitement at 
the thought of Pome and Venice, and I at the thought of home. 
My excitement grew with every hour, for it was not many hours 
after saying good-by to Irving until we had left the coast of 
France and were making a straight crossing for Clover Combe. 
All the little village was out to see the landing of the Sea Gull ; 
they had been watching for it for days, and as I stood on the 
deck, while the sailors were slowly heaving the big ship ahead 
to lay her snugly by the little wharf, crowded with the old 
friends of my boyhood — weather-beaten fishermen, their smil- 
ing wives and pretty daughters from the village; keepers, for- 
esters, farmers and house-servants from the Court — I saw 
my father, his fine head bared, with its handsome crop of curls 
just touched with frost, looking not a day older than that day 
I saw him last standing on the great wharf at Greenwich look- 
ing up at me, as he was looking up at me now from the little 
wharf at Clover Combe, his eyes shining with the strongest, 
truest and finest emotion earth knows — a father's love for his 
son. 

I had been at home a week, and every day Aunt Pamela 
(dear Aunt Pamela, who kissed me and wept over me, scolded 
me and flattered me, all in a breath, as she came running out 
on the south terrace to meet me) every day she said to me — 
" When are you going to call on your neighbor of Broadfields ? " 


THE ADOEABLE MISS LIVINGSTON 


421 


u Very soon,” I always answered her smilingly, “ I ’m waiting 
for my new uniform, you know.” 

And indeed I intended to call soon, nor was I waiting for 
my uniform; an indefinable shyness or dread, I knew not 
which, made me put it off from day to day. 

It was at dinner, on the afternoon of our arrival, that Aunt 
Pamela told me her wonderful piece of news — Eosamond Du- 
four had returned to Broadfields ! She confessed that she had 
been bursting with it for the entire three hours that we had 
been on land, but had saved it for a place and opportunity 
befitting such an announcement. We were having dinner on 
the great south terrace, sheltered from the late afternoon sun 
by a beech copse on the west, and catching glimpses of the 
sea through openings in the oaks and lindens of the park to 
the south. It was an old Clover Combe custom to have din- 
ner on the south terrace on fine days in summer, and young 
Mr. Moore (who was spending the night with me but could 
be prevailed upon to delay his setting out for London no longer 
than the next morning) was extravagant in his praise of the 
views, the air; the beeches, the oaks, and most of all the dining 
out of doors. We had only been on shore three hours, but in 
that three hours I had tried to visit as many of my old haunts 
as possible and I had kept young Moore rushing from stables 
to kennels, from park to garden, from deer preserve to rabbit 
warren; dragging him upstairs to show him my favorite Sir 
Joshua hanging in the north corridor, and downstairs to the 
library to give him a glimpse of my father’s treasures — El- 
zevirs, rare old editions, wonderfully tooled bindings. I was 
like a child home from Bugby with a schoolmate, to whom he 
must show all his treasures the first moment of his arrival. 

We were in a fitting frame of mind and body, therefore, to 
enjoy the quiet of dinner, a cool breeze from the sea blowing 
up through the park to the terrace, and the long shadows lying 
on the turf, whose like I had not seen in America, of so rich 
a green, so deep and velvety. 

I had shown sufficient surprise to please Aunt Pamela at 
her bit of news. 


422 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ Rosie Dufour ! ” I exclaimed. “ How long has she been 
here ? How did she get through the lines ? ” 

It was my father who answered. 

“ She has been home several weeks. I don’t think she found 
much difficulty in getting through; there are ways of managing 
it, I suppose.” 

“And is she — is she any better looking than she was as 
a child ? ” I asked. 

“ She was always good looking/’ my aunt answered promptly. 
“ Rosie Dufour was a very pretty child.” 

“ Perhaps so, if you like red hair/’ I answered ; “ but I sup- 
pose I was too young to be a judge of beauty.” 

“ Her hair has darkened with the years ; I think you might 
call her very good-looking/’ my father said with a twinkling 
eye, “but you can judge for yourself when you see her.” 

The talk very naturally drifted back to our childhood days, 
Rosie’s and mine, and the pranks she was continually playing, 
until Mr. Moore insisted that he felt a very lively interest as 
to how a child of that kind had grown up; he was greatly 
tempted to postpone London for a day or two tod see for him- 
self. 

However, the temptation was not strong enough; he was off 
the next morning, and he was hardly out of the house before 
Aunt Pamela had asked me if I was going to call at Broad- 

fields that morning, a question which she repeated daily, and 

I answered every day in the same fashion. 

It had been a busy week. Even if I had been greatly in- 
terested in my neighbor (and I said to myself I could never 
again feel interest in any woman) I would have found 

it difficult to make the time for the call. I had found my 

captain’s commission awaiting me on my return home; in one 
month I was to report at Portsmouth. It had been a great 
disappointment to my father that I had not received his letter 
earlier — I would have been home ten weeks sooner and had 
ten weeks more to spend with him before setting out for the 
seat of war. Now the time was so short that most of it must 
be occupied in preparations. 


THE ADOEABLE MISS LIVINGSTON 


423 


My father knew the story of Mademoiselle’s abrupt departure, 
and that I had never had a chance to make the proposal he 
had given me his consent to make; I had written it to him 
briefly, just before setting out with Mr. Moore for Niagara. 
I thought I had seen in his eyes since my return that he wanted 
to have a talk with me about it, and I was not surprised, there- 
fore, when he asked me to come into his library almost imme- 
diately after Mr. Moore’s departure. 

He did not begin on it at once; he had many things to say 
of my coming of age, which would be in October (and I told 
him I had spent my twentieth birthday in the Bridewell) but 
he came around to it at last. 

“ My son,” he said, “ I want you to know that you have my 
sympathy in your trouble. I have heard that Miss Desloge was 
in every way worthy, and though you know I had set my heart 
on Broadfields and Eosamond Dufour, I would have welcomed 
gladly a daughter whom, from all accounts, you had so wisely 
chosen.” 

This was much for my father to say; he was a man of few 
words where matters of the heart were concerned, and I was 
touched by his sympathy and could only respond by bowing my 
head. He went on with more hesitation, seeing, I suppose, that 
I was deeply moved, and feeling, I thought, the delicacy one 
would feel in speaking of any other woman to a man who has 
just lost his dearest friend by death. 

“ About Miss Dufour, Lionel,” he said gently, “ of course I 
know that you are in no mood to be calling on the ladies, but 
I think a formal call of courtesy on your old friend and nearest 
neighbor is due her, and hard as it may be to bring your mind 
to such a duty, I believe you will be the better for making the 
effort. After your first call you need see no more of her than 
you like.” 

Of course I readily promised my father to make the call, and 
I intended to do so at once, but, as I said before, either from 
shyness or dread, I kept putting it off, and a whole week had 
passed when it suddenly occurred to me that Eosamond Dufour 
was a friend, a dear friend, of Miss Desloge. We would at least 


424 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


have a topic of conversation of mutual interest, and it was pos- 
sible I might hear of her safe arrival in Paris and her address 
there — for I had been too dazed at first to think of asking 
Miss Livingston for it, and later I could not bring my mind to 
approach Miss Livingston upon any subject; so dreadful seemed 
to me the cruelty of temper that had forced a young girl to 
flee from her protection in haste. For I had never doubted that 
Miss Livingston had compelled Mademoiselle to this course and 
compelled her, I had the presumption to think, because she found 
in her too formidable a rival to her own hopes. 

It was not an hour after it had so suddenly occurred to me 
that Miss Dufour was Miss Desloge's friend that I found myself 
crossing the park to the familiar gap in the high hedge that 
separated the park from Broadfields. It had been a long time 
since I had entered the house ; it had been closed for years, and 
I was interested, in spite of myself, to note the evidences of 
taste — the taste of a young lady, and French at that — with 
which the small drawing-room was furnished. Books, pictures, 
flowers, a work table on which lay a piece of fine needlework, 
evidently hastily laid down, an open piano, with a song that 
I had heard Miss Desloge sing and greatly admired, on the 
rack. 

The long windows were open and I had hardly seated myself 
when through them, from the lawn, bounded a handsome collie 
with a magnificent white ruff and waistcoat. His head was 
turned as if expecting someone to follow him and I rose to my 
feet feeling quite sure Miss Dufour was about to enter, and 
feeling, quite unexpectedly, a queer, trembling excitement at 
the thought of seeing my little playfellow. 

But I was mistaken; the dazzling vision that ran lightly 
across the lawn and through the window, evidently in a romp 
with the collie, and of whom I saw nothing distinctly but a 
confused blur of red-gold curls and glowing dark eyes, was 
not Miss Dufour! 

The vision came to a sudden stop just inside the window, 
startled by my unexpected appearance. 


THE ADOEABLE MISS LIVINGSTON 


425 


“ Yon here ! ” I gasped, and for the life of me could not 
utter another word, nor, for a moment, move a muscle. Then 
as I saw the swift blood rushing in a flood over the creamy 
whiteness of face and neck, I stepped quickly forward, both 
hands extended; but before I reached her I stopped short, and 
let my hands fall to my side. I remembered she had left me 
without a word of explanation or farewell; she had been com- 
ing straight to my native land to make my childhood’s friend 
a visit, and yet, not a hint of it to me. It must be that she 
desired to make this visit while I was in a distant land, thus 
securing her from all possibility of intrusion from me. Perhaps 
she feared that if I had known she was coming, I would either 
have returned with her on the Sea Gull or taken the first ship 
following. 

All this flashed through my mind with the swiftness of the 
lightning. Instead of seizing her hands, as I had started to 
do, I made her a very low bow. 

“ Mademoiselle’s methods are inscrutable,” I said ; “ I should 
have supposed it would have been only natural to confide to a. 
friend, who I believe has proved his sincerity, her intention 
of visiting a friend of hers who was also a very old friend of 
his.” 

She curtsied deeply in response. A demure dimple was play- 
ing hide and seek just where the double curves of the scarlet 
lips met each other. The dark lashes were lying on the soft 
rose of the rounded cheek. I could not see whether they hid 
that familiar twinkle, but I was very sure they did — and I 
knew not why. 

“ Sir Lionel,” she said, still with downcast eyes, “ it is pos- 
sible to be the victim of circumstances, is it not ? ” 

“ Mademoiselle ! ” I cried, sure now that Miss Livingston had 
compelled her to go and would not permit her to communicate 
with me. “ Mademoiselle, it was all Miss Livingston’s doing, 
was it not?” 

And as I spoke I seized her hand in both of mine and held 
it close. 


426 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


“ Yes/’ she said demurely, “ it was all Miss Livingston’s 
doing,” and then she made a faint struggle to release her hand, 
to which I paid no attention, except to hold it closer. 

“ I knew it ! ” I cried. “ The cruelest, most heartless of 
women! Oh, Mademoiselle, you cannot be happier than I am 
to see you free of her tyranny. And listen to me, look at me, 
I beg” — one fleeting glance she gave me, but her eyes fell 
instantly, as if she could not bear the flame in mine. “ Do 
not tell me again that you will never marry anyone but a 
Frenchman. My father is waiting to welcome you as a daugh- 
ter. Will you come ? ” 

Her color grew steadily deeper and the hand I held trembled 
in my clasp, but she made a brave effort to answer me. 

“ I never said that I would marry none but a Frenchman,” 
she said shyly, with a half glance at me and that mocking 
dimple peeping at me from its hiding place. 

“ Never said so!” I echoed, and could not understand her 
at all. Had I been mad all these months! Then I drew my- 
self up as straight and as tall as I could make myself, and let 
her hand drop. 

“ Mademoiselle,” I said formally, “ I have the honor to 
offer you the hand of an Englishman. Will you accept it ? His 
heart has been so long in your keeping, it is not his to offer.” 

She glanced up at me quickly and shyly once more, and then 
her head drooped, but she said not a word. 

“ Mademoiselle, I implore you, answer me ! ” I entreated. 
“ I have sent up my name to Miss Dufour and she may come 
in upon us at any moment, and, glad as I shall be to see my 
old friend, I could not endure the suspense of talking to her 
and not knowing your answer.” 

She lifted her head and looked straight at me. There was 
the old, saucy, familiar twinkle dancing an Irish jig in her 
beautiful eyes and her scarlet lips were curving into a bewitch- 
ing smile. Something in the smile, in the familiar twinkle, and 
the familiar surroundings — it took the combination of all 
three — penetrated my stupid brain. 

“ Why ! WHY ! ! WHY ! ! ! ” I cried, each exclamation more 


THE ADOEABLE MISS LIVINGSTON 


427 


intense than the last, " you are Miss Dufour ! ” and I sprang 
toward her, thinking all my troubles were ended. But she 
drew herself up quite tall and stately. 

“ Yes,” she said, with the air of an empress, “ I am Bosa- 
mond Dufour, ‘ that red-headed, freckle-faced baby ! 9 99 

“ Oh, Eosamond,” I groaned, “ you surely will not hold that 
against me ! 99 And was going on to plead my cause but I 
stopped short. 

“ Why are you masquerading under a false name ? 99 I in- 
quired severely. And without waiting for her answer, for an- 
other suggestion had flashed into my mind — 

“ Did not Mr. La Force know your name was Dufour ? he 
always called you Mademoiselle Desloge.” 

“ Will you be seated, Sir Lionel ? 99 with the smile and the 
tone of a gracious hostess to a comparative stranger, “ and 
permit me to be seated also? Then we can talk it over at 
our ease.” 

She led the way as she spoke to some seats near the windows 
that opened onto the lawn on the side of the house looking 
toward Clover Combe Court, the tops of whose towers, a mile 
away, rising above the tall trees of the park, I could catch a 
glimpse of through the open windows. It was through the 
southern windows, looking toward the sea that she and the collie 
had made their entrance. 

I think I had been more at my ease standing. For the 
first time I began to feel embarrassed — I had had no time for 
embarrassment up to this moment, one intense emotion had 
succeeded the other so swiftly. I had asked two questions, 
and as yet she had answered neither. I said nothing fur- 
ther, but having seated myself, I looked at her, waiting for a 
reply. 

“ Monsieur,” she said, and corrected herself quickly, “ Sir 
Lionel, I am masquerading under no false name. You have 
forgotten, perhaps, that my family name is Desloge — Du- 
four. In England, as is the custom, I am called Miss Dufour; 
in France, also according to custom, I am called Mademoiselle 
Desloge. Mr. La Force never knew me by any other title, except 


428 


MISS LIVINGSTON'S COMPANION 


that he knew my name was Rosamond — yon seem not to have 
known, or cared, whether I had any baptismal name." 

“No," I said wonderingly, “I never even thought of it — 
to me you were always ‘ Mademoiselle.' And Mademoiselle," I 
added quickly (I was not sure but I liked the title quite as 
well as Rosamond) “ Mademoiselle, how did the mistress of 
Broadfields, and an heiress in her own right, happen to hire 
herself out to service with an American? And to endure such 
insults and contumely — it is difficult to understand." 

“ Sir Lionel, do you like Miss Livingston ? " 

“ I detest her ! " I snapped. 

“ Do you suppose that I like her ? " 

“I should suppose that you had more reason to detest her 
than I. No," — correcting myself — “not so great reason; she 
was cruel, tyrannical, insulting to one I love much more than 
she loves herself." 

She only noticed my speech with a fleeting blush. 

“ Monsieur," she said fervently, “ I adore her ! And I will 
never love any man who does not adore her also." 

“ You make it hard for me, Mademoiselle," I answered. 
“You demand of me the labors of Hercules. Besides, there 
is only one woman I could ever adore; nor should I suppose 
that woman would want me to adore another." 

“ 0 not in the same way, of course," with another light 
blush. “ But you ought to adore her, for you owe her much." 

“You speak in riddles, Mademoiselle. I believe I owe her 
much, but it is in the way of retribution, not gratitude." 

“I speak in riddles, still more have I acted in riddles, now 
I am going to unriddle them for you. I was never in service 
to Miss Livingston; I have never earned a penny in my life." 

“You and Miss Livingston have deliberately deceived me, 
then!" I exclaimed hotly. “For what purpose, pray?" 

“You speak hard words, sir," flushing in her turn; “I am 
not compelled to unriddle my riddle, and if you are to take 
it in that humor I will let it stand as it is." 

“ Mademoiselle," I entreated quickly, “ forgive me. I have 
not yet that complete control of a hasty temper that I am 


THE ADOEABLE MISS LIVINGSTON 


429 


striving for. I appreciate greatly the kindness you are doing 
me and I pray you go on.” / 

“ Very well, then,” with a smile of comprehension. “ It 
all came about in an accidental way, with no intention of 
deceiving. Miss Livingston and I have been for several years 
very close friends, ever since she came to Paris with her father 
and was entered as a pupil at the convent of Les Soeurs Angel- 
iques. When her education was finished she desired greatly 
to go home to America, rather than remain in Paris with the 
rest of the family, and her father sent her home under the 
care of Mrs. Pomeroy. She begged me to go home with her, 
for a long visit, but there were reasons then,” said Mademoiselle 
hesitating and blushing brightly, “ why I did not wish to go so 
far from home. Afterwards my affairs changed, and I wrote 
her I would come. About the time I made my decision, your 
uncle wrote to Mr. Livingston in Paris telling him of your 
father’s plan of sending you to America and asked him for 
letters of introduction.” 

“ So you knew I was going to America ? ” I interrupted her. 
“Did you know I would be on the Sea Gull V’ 

“No, and I was terribly startled when you first came to 
the table and Captain Skinner introduced you as Sir Lionel 
Marchmont. I thought you would recognize me and Miss Liv- 
ingston’s plan would be spoiled.” 

“ Miss Livingston’s plan ! ” I echoed. “ What did Miss Liv- 
ingston have to do with it ? ” 

“ Oh, I had written her of your intended visit, and that 
your father was sending you to America because of an unfortu- 
nate love affair, and — ” 

But I interrupted her again. 

“ Then you knew about Peggy all the time ? ” I demanded. 

“ No, not about Peggy. Your uncle only said ‘ an unfortu- 
nate love affair.’ Miss Livingston knew of you; I had often 
spoken of my playmate ‘ Lion,’ and her quick brain devised a 
scheme that was to make you forget Peggy. I was to be, in 
public, Miss Livingston’s maid, or paid companion. She was 
to treat me haughtily or tyrannically, and Miss Livingston 


430 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


said : * If Sir Lionel did not forget his unfortunate love in his 
interest in the poor, downtrodden dependent, he was not 
worth being interested in ! ’ ” 

Now I understood all that had puzzled me on the Sea Gull; 
why she avoided meeting me as much as possible; why she 
treated me so coldly when we met, and especially I understood 
that strange glance that I had attributed to French coquetry. 

But there were other things still more interesting to me in 
her story. It had all been told with such hesitation and em- 
barrassment as delighted me greatly. Was she not betraying 
with every word that they had formed a plot to win my love? 
All this time that I had been thinking myself the ardent wooer 
I was, in fact, being wooed. 

“ And so,” I said, “ while I was so wrought up over your 
sufferings, you and Miss Livingston were laughing in your 
sleeves at me.” 

She looked a little shamefaced. 

“ Oh, no, not laughing,” she said quickly, “ we — admired 
your generous spirit.” 

“Now that I recall it, I heard you laughing at me once 
when I passed your door at Clermont. It was after Miss Liv- 
ingston had been especially brutal and I had told you that I 
would not stay under her roof another day.” 

“ I know,” she said, looking still more shamefaced. “ I 
was often afraid we were carrying it too far, and I was often 
sorry for you.” 

“No man likes to be made a fool of, I suppose you know. 
Mademoiselle,” I said sternly. 

She looked the picture of distress. “ You will never forgive 
me,” she murmured. 

“ I never ought to, but I will,” I answered. “ I find I can’t 
help forgiving you anything, which is very weak and foolish of 
me. But Miss Livingston — I am not sure I will forgive her.” 

“You have nothing to forgive her — she sacrificed herself 
most nobly for your sake.” 

“I believe that is true,” I answered slowly, “for she made 
herself appear, not to me alone, but to any who happened to be 



u You will never forgive me,” she murmured 


t 




THE ADORABLE MISS LIVINGSTON 


431 


present, in a most nnamiable light. I wonder Kemble’s in- 
terest in her could survive it.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Kemble knew,” she said demurely. 

“ Mr. Kemble KNEW ! ” I exclaimed. *•' And pray how 
many more knew that I was being made a fool of ? ” I asked, 
inwardly seething, but outwardly calm. 

“ Mayor Livingston knew, of course, and Mr. Hamilton — 
there was no one else; though I object to your twice-uttered 
expression — there was no thought of making a fool of you.” 

Her voice had a steely ring that I did not like on her last 
words. A new idea flashed into my head. 

“ Mademoiselle, your leaving New York, then, so suddenly, 
and without a word to me, was not because Miss Livingston 
was angry and compelled you to go ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Why did you go ? ” 

“ Sir Lionel,” she said petulantly, “ I have been very patient 
under your catechism, but my patience is not inexhaustible.” 

I was silent a moment; I thought I understood. It flashed 
into my mind that the whole plot had been a contrivance of 
Miss Livingston’s to give Rosamond an opportunity of seeing 
and knowing her old playmate without herself being known; 
that in so doing she could judge for herself what manner of 
man he was. I believed that in so judging, she had finally 
come to the conclusion that he was not a man after her own 
heart, but, in the meanwhile, Miss Livingston’s scheme had 
worked too well: the man was madly in love with the poor 
dependent and her only way of getting rid of him was to escape 
for home without his knowledge. I thought, also, that I knew 
exactly what had destroyed the liking she had certainly felt 
for me at first: it was the unfavorable report she had heard 
of my doings in New York before Thanksgiving, and that still 
more unfortunate night at the theater. She believed me a 
drinking-man and a brawler, no doubt, and my note of explana- 
tion had not convinced her. 

This was a terrible blow to me. Having found her when I 
thought I had lost her forever, my spirits had flown to the 


432 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


highest heaven and I believed all my troubles ended; it seemed 
to me now that I was in lower depths than I had ever been. 
Heretofore I had believed circumstances were against me, now 
I saw that it was Mademoiselle herself. And having found 
little Bosie, my childhood’s' playmate and my boyhood’s sweet- 
heart, one with Mademoiselle, my manhood’s love, had seemed 
to me a wonderful combination, and now all that was lovely 
and beautiful in womankind had come to me only to be lost; 
and lost in dear old Broadfields where every association would 
have made the finding so much the dearer. I bowed my head 
on my hands for a few minutes, overwhelmed by this sudden 
transition from the supreme joy I had felt at meeting her once 
more, to this dull despair that was settling around my heart 
with the conviction that she was lost to me. 

When I lifted my head I found her watching me solicitously, 
but that was/ only her tender heart; I knew it could not bear 
to see anyone suffer. In answer to a gentle “What is it. 
Sir Lionel ? ” I told her a part of what had been passing 
through my mind — I could not tell her all. Her eyes fell 
and it almost seemed to me that she grew pale as I talked, but 
she did not deny that it was true. All that she said was a low 
shocked — “ Sir Lionel ! ” 

At the word the big handsome collie rose from a rug 
before the fireplace where he had been lying, shook himself and 
stalked over to his mistress. He was a splendid animal, but 
he was new at Broadfields. I had never seen him there in the 
old days. He laid his slender muzzle in Miss Desloge’s lap 
and looked up at her with adoring eyes, and presently, with 
a dog’s instinct that she needed comforting, began to lick her 
face. 

“ Down Lion ! ” she exclaimed hastily, as she put him from 
her with her little hand. But she had not meant to call his 
name, and she looked up at me with a startled glance and a 
quick rush of color to the face I had thought pale a moment 
before. All my depression and despair were gone in a flash, 
and such a wave of tenderness swept over me for the little 


THE ADOEABLE MISS LIVINGSTON 


433 


Eosie of boyhood days as quite blurred, for a moment, the image 
of Mademoiselle Desloge. 

" You named him Lion ! ” I cried exultingly, seizing her 
hands in mine, and drawing her toward me. “ Oh, Eosie ! 
Eosamond ! You love me ! 99 

It was a long time afterward that I asked her again — 

"If you loved me, and, as you say, have always loved me, 
why did you run away from New York?” 

In broken sentences she answered: 

" Oh, I began to be afraid Miss Livingston’s scheme had 
worked too well — that you loved the poor dependent, but per- 
haps you would not love the mistress of Broadfields. You 
loved Mademoiselle Desloge, but perhaps you never would love 
the ‘ red-headed freckle-faced baby/ Eosie Dufour. And — 
then — too, I thought that if I went away you would leave 
New York and come home — Miss Livingston thought so — 
and your father had written me that he was going to write to 
you to come.” 

"My father had written you! And you two were writing 
to each other and forming conspiracies against me ! ” 

She blushed. “ Only that one letter. He said he had written 
Mr. Livingston and found out who I was, and he hoped I was 
coming back to Broadfields, and he would write you to come 
home. But oh, Lionel — you were so long in coming! And 
now you must go away so soon ! ” 

Her two little hands were clasped on my breast holding 
me away from her, and her sweet brown eyes, looking up at 
me, were full of reproach, and almost, I thought it must be 
tears that made them shine so. 

All the lingering love that for years I had unconsciously 
cherished in the depths of my heart for my little playfellow, 
Eosie ; all the adoring love that for months had held me enslaved 
in turn, by hope and by despair for Mademoiselle Desloge, Miss 
Livingston’s beautiful companion, downtrodden, persecuted by 
a tyrannical mistress; all the wonderful love for this glorious 
Eosamond, mistress of Broadfields, that, for the last hour, had 
28 


434 


MISS LIVINGSTON’S COMPANION 


bewildered and intoxicated me, swept over me in an over- 
whelming flood. 

“Rose of the World/’ I whispered reverently, and hardly 
dared to kiss away the tears that now were brimming those 
beautiful eyes, ready to fall. 


The butler, the same fine old Wellston that had petted and 
scolded Rosie and me as children, was uttering a warning cough 
to precede his entrance. Close at his heels were two visitors 
and they found us each decorously seated on chair and sofa. 

It was to me my father made his apology, not to Rosamond. 

“You must excuse my coming, Lionel. I couldn’t wait to 
find out what you thought of the mistress of Broadfields.” 

And as he spoke, he took Rosamond’s hand and held it in his. 

“Me too. Sir Lionel,” said Captain Skinner in his Yankee 
drawl and with his honest Yankee smile. “ I calkelate to go 
up to Lunnon this arternoon with the caravan of goods from 
the Sea Gull , and I had to see how you took it, fust.” 

“You too!” I said, as I grasped the captain’s sinewy hand. 
“Now, Rosamond, all we need to make the circle of conspira- 
tors complete is to send an invitation to Kemble and the 
* adorable Miss Livingston’ to come to Clover Combe on their 
wedding trip.” 


THE END 


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